


In The Flesh

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's one of the few people who can pass through the woods unharmed by the fierce wolves that roam there - has been able to ever since he was a little boy and befriended a wolf pup. But there's a lot more to the story than Jared knows and when it comes time to make a choice, which life will he want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a fill for a prompt on spnkink_meme on LJ that got terribly out of hand. Thanks to stillastranger for beta.

It's the first warm day of the year, the air still wet from the frost that melted overnight, finally giving way after months of holding the ground captive. The sun's blinding bright, blue sky unmarred by clouds and the crispness of the breeze is nothing but refreshing after what feels like weeks on end trapped inside the cottage.

Jared knew he shouldn't have wandered out beyond the tree line - a lifetime of admonishments was enough to beat that lesson into his brain - but still, in all of his vast nine years of experience, he'd never seen any of the supposedly fearsome wolves that roamed the forest to the west side of the village, and as long as he didn't go far it didn't seem like there could be any harm.

Of course, that had been this morning and Jared's mother is always getting on to him for letting his imagination get away with him. He really hadn't meant to get out of sight of the village but then there had been some kind of red bird flying overhead he'd never seen before and then he'd stumbled on a growth of brambles he'd had to go around so now he's not sure how far into the trees his is anymore, or exactly which direction he came from.

Overhead the sun is still high and his stomach hasn't started to grumble yet for the little roll of snacks he has with him, so it can't be past midday. He knows what to do, he's not a woodsman's son for nothing; he just needs to wait until it sinks a little lower so he can tell which direction to point himself in.

Rather than get himself even further turned around, Jared finds a comfortable spot against the base of a tree and relaxes back to wait listening to the soft forest noises all around him.

***

It must be the silence that wakes him; the woods are always quiet but not silent, not like this. Jared's heart jumps into action immediately, hammering at his chest, and he holds his breath to try and keep himself quiet. Something's out there. He can't quite make himself open his eyes, like if he sees whatever danger it is coming toward him, it will make it real.

The melt-damp underbrush doesn't crackle nearby so when he feels the cold press of a snuffling nose at his ankle, reflexively he jerks away, eyes flying open.  
The wolf skitters backward a step or two, ears flat to its tawny head. It's small, young, still fluffy and pudgy around the middle but with big, heavy paws that say it'll get much bigger one day. It dips its head, ears easing forward as it slinks sideways across the ground, corralling Jared.

His back presses so hard into the tree he can feel the rough texture of the bark through his clothes. The pup moves in closer, pulling its body low to the ground. Jared kicks his feet out at it, instinct telling him to run, run fast, but he skids on the loose soil, his legs coming out from under him as the ground rushes up to meet him.

The sound and the pressure are almost instantaneous; a rough, high growl and the solid weight of warm paws on his back. The air next to his ear shivers with the noise, hot little puffs of breath against his skin and it's the only thing Jared can really feel beyond the blinding cold of terror.

And then, just as he's sending up his prayers to the gods and promising to always listen to his mother no matter what if only he can get out of this, the growl settles, lulling down to a barely audible vibration that's completely overshadowed by the loud sniffing noises as the animal noses at the hair behind Jared's ear. There's a quick swipe of warm and wet that he doesn't register as a lick until after the weight has moved off of him.

He turns over in a flash, but there's no point in pretending he could outrun the wolf like this, when it's still practically standing on top of him, but it doesn't seem nearly as menacing now. Instead it's just watching him with its head cocked curiously to the side, green-gold eyes shining. There's something strange about the way it's looking at him though. It's not the same way their dogs at home look, there's something... more there, as though Jared can see it thinking. He feels sharply uncomfortable in ways that have less to do with the danger in front of him than the unsettling unnaturalness of it all.

He needs to make it stop watching him like that, but every time he tentatively scoots back and it follows, closing the distance but never coming any closer. If he could only distract it somehow...

The wolf flinches when his hand shoots to his pocket, digging out the little roll of food he'd brought with him. There are a couple of slightly mashed pieces of bread inside the fabric along with a hunk of hard cheese and a few strips of dried venison from the storeroom. Perfect.

He breaks off a small piece from one of the strips of meat, holding it out in his fingertips just close enough for the pup to strain forward and scent. Before it can snatch the food from Jared's fingers though, he pulls it back and throws body tense and at the ready for the moment the wolf follows the path of the treat through the air.

He doesn't even have a chance to stand before the lithe animal springs from the ground and catches the leathery meat mid-flight, landing almost daintily to sit right in front of Jared again. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the pup looked smug as it - heh - wolfed down his offering.

It licks it's lips happily, pink tongue peeking out of its open mouth as it pants something that looks uncannily like a smile. It takes one slow step in and then another and Jared knows he should move, should run, but he'll never make it and all he can do is sit frozen as the creature walks up between his spread legs and noses at the pouch of food resting in his lap.

It's a stupid thing to do of course, but somehow Jared can't help himself and little brother reflex takes over.

"Hey," he whines snatching the food up in his hand before the wolf can get at the rest of it. He realizes his mistake the moment he does it but the pup doesn't growl or try to snatch the pouch back, in fact, it lowers its head ears flat again and looks up at Jared with the pitiful guilty eyes his mother swears he invented.

And it's... it's so much like one of their dogs, so much, really, like his baby sister, that he can't help but give in. He tears off another strip of the meat, barely getting a chance to let go before the wolf laps it out of his fingers, ears perked up and cheerful again.

It waits patiently for him to offer another bite, this time letting the animal nibble it right out of his hand and lick his palm clean afterward. He doesn't realize how quickly the meat is dwindling away between each gentle exchange until it's all gone. There's a momentary swipe of panic when he realizes there's no more, but bizarrely, as if the wolf senses his worry, it pushes forward to nuzzle its head underneath his chin.

It feels nothing but natural from there to reach a hand up and scratch behind the pup's ears and the action earns him a soft lick against his neck. The feel of it is ticklish and makes him giggle, but that only seems to encourage the pup, which moves his tongue around the spot almost playfully letting out a high-pitched yip that's nearly a laugh.

It stands over him, paws braced on his chest as he manages to catch his breath from the fit of laughter. Its eyes are shining, mouth open on that smile again, tail wagging happily behind it. It gives a little hop with its front paws, forcing a little grunt out of him with a move he knows from his own dogs - its 'come on, play with me', and somehow that doesn't seem like a bad idea.

Jared uses his weight to roll them over, wrestling the pup gently to the ground. It worms out from under him, nipping at his tunic before scampering a step or two away and turning expectantly. He pounces again and the two of the roll around until he knows he's got twigs and leaves stuck all through his hair and his cloak is so dirty his mother's bound to throw a fit.

The thought of his mother makes him stop. She's probably worried sick. There is still plenty light out, but the sun is lower in the sky than he thought and now it's no challenge at all to figure out which way home is.

The pup looks up at him from where it - he, obviously - lays on his back, the downy, off-white fur of his belly exposed for Jared to absently rub through.

"I have to go home now," he says out loud, without really knowing why. It's not as though he expects the wolf to actually understand him.

The pup rolls over onto its feet anyway, making a whining sound in his throat and giving Jared the sad eyes again. He cups both hands behind the wolf's ears and scrubs their foreheads together.

"I can come back," Jared promises, petting through the coarser fur along the wolf's spine. He doesn't give up the whining noise, but he does nuzzle his head against Jared's and for no good reason at all, Jared gets the impression the pup understands.

It walks along beside him as he makes his way back, occasionally running up a few paces ahead to sniff at something interesting but always rushing right back to his side. He's not as far from home as he'd thought before and dusk is only just beginning to settle when he sees the break in the trees.

For a while he's been wondering what to do about the pup - he doubts his parents would let him keep a baby wolf, but Jared's worried about leaving him out here all alone. What if he doesn't have a family to take care of him?

The wolf stops short though as they approach the tree line, looking up at Jared then back down, turning in a nervous little circle in place before glancing back over his shoulder. Far in the distance, Jared can just barely pick out the sound of another wolf howling. The pup whines again and paws at the ground.

"You have to go too, huh?" he asks. He knows his brother would tell him it's just his imagination, but it really does seem like the wolf understands when he talks.

The pup takes a step forward to butt his head roughly at Jared's legs and automatically he kneels down to put them on level. He scratches affectionately at the top of the wolf's head, smiling as its bright eyes slowly close in contentment.

Before he can pull away, the animal buries his snout in Jared's hair, snuffling around him and huffing out fervent breaths like he's got a goal to accomplish. Then there's a sharp stinging pain just behind his left ear where the pup's muzzle is rubbing, wicked little puppy teeth breaking the skin. It's not a deep bite, he can tell, and the wolf is already making apologetic little whimpers into his skin and lapping at the cut by the time he really feels the sting.

Reluctantly, the pup pulls away, bumping Jared's with his cold, wet nose and giving him once last lick, right across the mouth which makes Jared laugh and surge backward. By the time he's righted himself, the wolf is already winding his way through the trees, turning around every few seconds to look back at Jared. They watch each other until the forest swallows up the view. He can't for the life of him figure out why it feels so important.

***

The bite was small, but it leaves a silvery scar, just a little one behind his ear, covered most of the time by hair anyway. Even after all of these years, Jared would swear on a stack of holy books that he can feel it tingle when he walks into the forest.

He still goes regularly, once a week if he can manage it, and while his family worries something fierce, they let him go because it's necessary - it's not as though he's not plenty big enough to take care of himself now anyway.

  
There aren't very many people who can venture into the woods unscathed - that fact hasn't changed since he was a little boy, even though Jared himself seems to be immune to the misfortunes that befall others beyond the trees. Because of it, he can go hunting where others cannot and bring back meat even when the larders are lean. It has earned him a reputation as the best hunter in the village; little do they know he has a partner. He's always respectful of the forest, never takes more than they need, and always makes sure to offer something to his hunting companion.

A part of him feels like he ought to have named the wolf after all of this time, but nothing he's ever come up with has felt right. Name or not, the wolf is almost always there when he goes into the woods, even if sometimes he only glimpses him from a distance. Most of the time though, the animal - broad and strong, big for his kind, but with the same tawny fur and speckled green eyes as the first time they met - follows along beside him, helping him find game that's beyond his human senses to track.

He's never told anyone about the wolf, and as he so often finds when it comes to the creature, he's not sure why. Somehow, it just feels like something private, some kind of understanding they have between them and he doubts it would make sense to anyone else. Also, he's not particularly keen on the village thinking he's any crazier that they already do.

Still, he looks forward to those times in the wood more than he probably ought to. It feels, in the strangest way, like coming home; much more so than in the village where it always seems as though people are looking at him sideways, ever wary of his height and strength and the whispers of pacts with the devil for safe passage through the forest. And the wolf - though he'd never say so out loud - has become more of a friend to him than any human he's ever known.

Jared lies back from trussing up the carcass of a freshly killed deer, the bindings tight to keep out insects, though this late in the fall, there are few to be found. They're in a little clearing, the wolf and he stars bright and glimmering in an inky sky above.

It's chilly out, but the ground is soft, and when the wolf comes and lies down against his side - always and only after he's finished fastidiously cleaning his muzzle from whatever meal Jared provides him - it's plenty comfortable.

There's a tiny shock of cool on his skin as the wet nose buries itself behind his left ear - it seems to be his friend's favorite spot - overtaken by the steady fug of warm breath against his skin. Occasionally soft licks will punctuate the feeling when he finds a particularly good spot as he pets through thick fur.

The wind howls around the uneven rocks of the little hillock he's laid them beneath, almost but not quite like the noises of the other wolves he sometimes hears in the distance.

"Have you found a mate yet?" he asks, getting a high sound and a couple of strong swipes of tongue in return. It's become more than a bit of a habit for him to talk out loud to the wolf, just saying whatever things happen to wander through his mind. "It's getting awfully late in the season. You're going to be a lonely old man, you know if you don't find someone soon."

It's an odd sort of thing to wonder about, he supposes, but he gets enough badgering in his own life about finding a woman and settling down, raising children. It seems like everyone he grew up with had already paired off long ago and a part of him can't help but be curious if that truth extends to his furry friend as well.

There's a part of him that insists that he would have known about it if the wolf had a mate that he'd have seen her or the pups, even though he knows there must be a whole pack roaming these woods that he's never seen. Most of him knows it's ridiculous, but if he's being honest, he still thinks somehow that he'd know.

The wolf makes a mournful sound - he has a whole plethora of noises Jared's come to know like their own private language - and lifts his head, eyes catching hauntingly in the moonlight as he looks pleadingly at Jared.

He chuckles softly, scooping a hand around the back of the wolf's head, "I know, I know. I'm one to talk." He presses a soft kiss to the silky hairs along the wolf's forehead, breathing in the warm, earthy scent.

It's not that there have never been girls who wanted him or caught his eye, it's just that he's never been able to feel himself - with anyone really, anyone human at least - and he just can't imagine spending the rest of his life on the edge of his seat, waiting for the first chance to go running off into the forest again. It would hardly seems fair, to the woman he chose or to himself.  
The wolf's heavy head settles on Jared's chest, one paw splayed out next to it, and Jared lets his fingers find that little spot just behind the right shoulder blade that always makes his friend twitch and sigh contentedly.

There's another thought that weighs on his mind too, one he's had for years and years now and it presses at him more with the passing of each season until he feels rubbed raw by it. It's the only thought he's never been able to say aloud, even here, as though it will somehow become a reality by him saying it out loud.

He doesn't really know much about wolves beyond the basics, but they seem to be reasonably similar to dogs and so he supposes they must have similar life spans too. He was only nine when he first came into the forest that day, not even sure then if he'd ever see the wolf again, and now twelve years later, he knows that their time will come to an end, sooner rather than later. Something inside of him clenches tight at the thought, a lump he can't seem to swallow forming in his throat.

It's ridiculous, he knows, to be so attached to an animal that he could get more choked up at the idea of losing him than he would over most of the people he knows. But still, in his heart of hearts, that's how he feels and he's not sure if he'll be able to make it through the inevitable day when he finally walks into the forest and his friend doesn't come to greet him.

He doesn't say any of that, because it's not the wolf's fault for being what he is and Jared certainly doesn't need to burden him - even as he knows that the creature wouldn't actually understand him - but it wears on him more than he'd ever care to admit, and if some nights he chooses to stay in the woods with furry warmth curled beside him instead of making the easy trek home and well, that's their little secret.

***

Jared's breath is freezing into little clouds in front of him with every step. It's nothing compared to the cold nestled down in his gut; colder than the snow crunching under his feet or the icicles hanging from the limbs above.

The wolf's not here. He's usually here by now; Jared's been out for hours already.

His fingertips tingle in the sharp bursts of air flowing between the unfriendly trees but he can't seem to keep them in his pockets. He's wandering aimlessly through the areas they usually hunt, eyes darting around in the impending darkness; not for game or for danger, but for his friend and with each passing minute the search seems more frantic.

Worry gnaws hungrily at his tender insides. The last time he'd been out, it looked like the wolf had been in a fight, bloody little scratches and what could have been bite marks on him. Jared has stayed out an extra three days just to make sure his friend was healing properly. Maybe he hadn't been cautious enough, though, maybe he had overlooked some more serious wound, or infection had overtaken the wolf and Jared had just left him out here to die in the cold all on his own.

There's not nearly enough air dragging into his lungs, the hearty gulps of it burning inside of him like frozen fire. He wants to run, to scramble and make sure his friend's alright, but he doesn't know where to go because he doesn't even know where the wolf makes his home and it's too hard to breathe, too hard to think. He's losing his mind over a gods-damned animal that he never even bothered to name and he doesn't care if it's crazy to kneel down and let fire-hot tears track down his frigid cheeks into the snow because he's got nothing left to do.

He must be more wrapped up in it that even he'd guessed; the swirl of throbbing blood rushing in his ears and his sobs drowning out the approaching crunch of ice under booted foot until thick fingers gently push the curtain of hair back from his flushed face.

Jared startles then, so violently he ends up crab walking backward vainly groping for his belt knife.

"Shh, it's alright," the man who touched him says soothingly, his voice something deep and creamy that rockets to the tight place in Jared's chest. He drops to his knees in the snow and dimly Jared thinks the man's going to freeze to death dressed like that - light cotton pants and a matching shirt and simple leather boots, no coat or cloak or anything at all to protect him from the elements. Still he puts his broad hands right down into the snow and tentatively crawls toward Jared on his hands and knees.

It hits Jared square in the gut, harder than anything has since the second time he found his way into the trees and discovered the wolf waiting happily for him.

This is him.

He doesn't know why he thinks it and it makes no sense at all, but he can't make his mind let go of the idea as the man moves steadily closer. The stranger has hair cropped close, a color caught between blond and brown - tawny, his mind supplies - strong features, just slightly rounded and almost feminine and yet starkly male at the same moment. The light is getting low as night creeps in but the man is nearly on top of him now - his hunter's instincts are screaming at him to do something about that before it's too late, but he's still locked up in thought - and he can make out a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose leading like a trail up to thick lashed eyes. Green eyes, flecked with gold, so familiar it physically hurts and finally drives a naked, unchecked sound out of Jared's throat.

Full lips break into a smile that he knows so well but has never seen plastered across a human mouth. This cannot. Be. Happening.

The man presses his face close to Jared's, the stubble on their cheeks rasping - how can his skin be so warm? - before he presses his lips behind Jared's left ear and breathes in deep; opens his hot mouth to nip and lick at the scarred skin.

Something in that finally strikes a chord. Jared's sitting in the middle of the woods with a man straddling his lap, licking at his old wolf scar. A man who... a man... oh gods!

Jared braces his hands on the strong chest in front of him and shoves hard enough to dislodge the stranger and send him toppling backward into the snow. For a moment there's shock painted across those achingly well-known eyes and then the man breaks out into a grin and actually laughs. Laughs!

"You're... you're not... you can't be..." Jared stutters, his mind reeling around this one single thought that he still can't make himself grasp because it's just not possible!

"Am, can," the man says simply, getting back to his knees so he's all but spread out in Jared's lap again. It might help if Jared moved, he supposes but it seems like the odds of that happening are very slim. Actually, the only good odds are the he's lost his mind because the wolf's dead and this is all some bizarre grief dream he's having as he drifts off into the cold embrace of a winter's death.

The stranger with his wolf's eyes sighs. "Jared," he says, exasperation clear in his tone. Jared tries not to shudder at the effect hearing his name in that man's voice has on him. "You've heard the legends. You used to talk about them, remember? How much you wished I could be one?"

"Werewolves aren't real!" he spits back, the words suddenly rolling off his tongue with as much ease as desperation. The man smirks back at him and Jared's mind can't help but superimpose the image of the matching expression on a much more canine face.

"Demonstrably false."

Then the man's leaning in close again, his head tilting just so and Jared realizes they're about to kiss just in time to duck away.

The man - wolf? Wolf-man? - is strong though and well settled so Jared's attempts to roll him off do nothing but press himself more firmly in to the snow, packed chill sliding down the back of his coat. The man snorts, obviously put out and crosses his arms over his powerful chest.

"I really expected you to take this better. Look, do you want me to shift for you?" he rolls his bright eyes, "I'd much rather have a conversation. Finally. Or, other things..." one of his hands disentangles itself and slides up to cup Jared's jaw, thumb playing at his lower lip, "But if it will make you believe me, I'll do it."

There's absolutely nothing for Jared to say to that. On the one hand, yes, 'shifting' assuming it means what he thinks it means would definitely make him believe all of this insanity. Well, maybe. But on the other hand, he's really not sure he's prepared for what's going to happen if the man sitting so blithely on top of him actually manages to turn into Jared's wolf right in front of his eyes.

What finally chokes his way out of his tight throat is "You're not real," because this absolutely has to be a dream; a cruel, deceptive dream.

The man picks up Jared's hand from where he now realizes they've been laying in the snow beside him. He pulls them both together between his own warm palms and brings them to his face to puff hot air across the stinging skin.

"I am real," he says, slow and deliberate, like he's talking to a very young child or someone particularly stupid. Alright, so maybe that's fair. "I look real, don't I?" He doesn't pause for Jared to answer before he brings Jared's hands to his chest, pressing the palms flat over the steady thud of his heartbeat. "And don't I feel real too?" He leans in close again, not trying for a kiss this time, just nuzzling his face up against Jared's so that the soft prickle of the hairs along the side of his face tickle Jared's nose with a familiar earthy scent. "And smell real." The turn of his face is so sudden Jared misses it until the man's tongue has already slipped into his agape mouth, coaxing his own tongue into action before pulling back. "Mmm, taste real," the last is nothing but a moan and for some reason, it settles low in Jared's stomach, where, he suddenly realizes, the cold dread has vanished.

"Real," he purrs against Jared's lips, "Yours. Please, Jared, I've been waiting so long." Their mouths catch on one another, pressing into a soft, moist kiss. Jared falls into it unconsciously; his body operating naturally with the smooth wetness of the other man's caressing tongue.

The heat is almost overwhelming, sweltering between their bodies even as the snow melts through Jared's clothes, and he can't fight the instinct that makes his hands slide under the man's shirt to absorb the warmth of strong, flexing muscle. Under his wrist, the hard fever-hot line of the man's erection presses into him and that's what finally snaps Jared out of his stupor.

"So long?" he gasps, ignoring the familiar needy whine that worms out of the man's throat as he chases the kiss. "You've been... you could have done this all along?!"

"Well, not exactly. The alpha forbid it, so I had-"

"What?"

"The alpha. It's, well, it's like a king, our leader. The alpha's word is law and ours forbid me to turn you. But it's alright; see, because I'm alpha now. I can do whatever I want," his grin is almost blinding and Jared feels the corners of his mouth twitching up in echo without his permission, "There's nothing to keep us apart anymore."

"Turn? Keep us a- What!?" He doesn't know where the surge of strength comes from, but it's enough to get him on his feet, the man toppling to the ground again with a playful smile. It pulls at something deep inside of Jared like heartache, or maybe just want. He starts to pace.

"Turn. Make you one of us," The man says, green eyes gleaming mischievously. If he didn't know better, he'd say that he caught a glint in them as they reflected the light, just like a wolf's. But then he doesn't really know better, does he?

The man catches him around the waist on the next pass, still kneeling in his snow-soaked clothes, and rubs his face against Jared's abdomen until he finds warm skin beneath the layers. There too, he kisses and nips, letting out these low pleased little sounds that Jared knows. He knows, because he's heard them so many times before, and sickeningly his body is responding; it feels far too right for how wildly wrong this is. And... 'make you one of us'.  
Panic shoots through him like fire, the first clear thing that's come to him since the fog of sorrow - fear. This man, this thing, wants...

Damned if he doesn't remember this feeling, every sharp clear second of it from years ago - little him, facing down a little wolf and he needs to run. The difference is that now, his traitorous instincts are screaming at him to stay, but he can't, he can't let- no. Run. He has to run.

The creature's grip on him is loose enough that he's free with the first stumbling step. His body and the shifting snow work against him as he pushes to his limit, every inch of him burning with exertion with only ten yards behind him and the man's voice barking, "No! Jared, don't run!"

It's a second to late when he sees the wolf - not his wolf, his wolf's behind him looking like something Jared doesn't know how to contemplate- mahogany fur and blue eyes flying at him out of the near-dark of the trees and he's pinned to the ground instantly. The animal's right in his face, its growl intensifying as he tries to move his hand to his belt knife and it's only in this moment that it occurs to him that he's never actually laid eyes on another wolf in all this time.

Sludgy snow batters his shoulders and cheeks as, seconds later; the man is upon them, a mirror of the vicious growl from the animal on Jared's chest tearing from the stranger's human throat. The wolf backs down instantly, rolling over to expose its belly with a whine. Jared doesn't have time to marvel as he's hauled to his feet again, by the nape of his cloak.

"Don't ever," the man shakes him hard, teeth still bared, "Ever, run from a wolf! You know better, Jared!"

The wolf at their feet whines again and the man spares it enough of a glance to lose a more subdued growl, pulling Jared in tight to his body at the same moment. His breath catches in his throat. It's too much, he can't- he doesn't even know what's happening and it's just far too much. He scrabbles his hands at the man, manages to push away, but all that gets him is laid out flat in the snow all over again.

And that's when he notices the others, a sandy-colored wolf with piercing blue eyes and a russet one, dancing warily from foot to foot. They're only a few yards off and slowly working closer but the man pays them no mind.

Of course he doesn't, Jared thinks, they're his. His to command and they're hemming Jared in, trapping him. He would have never thought his friend would... how dare he!

"So this is it, then?" he shouts, his voice echoing off of the trees, but at least it's steady with anger. "You'll trap me here, force me to join you? I thought better of you than that! I thought a-"

"No!" the man rushes, green eyes wide. Jared doesn't miss the obvious hurt there. "No, I would never force you. I thought if there was ever a chance... you talked about it so many times, I just..." He looks shattered, heartbroken, and it pulls at things inside of Jared again to see it, the need to comfort him so ingrained it's like flaying his own flesh not to.

He had talked about it, many times; silly, childhood fantasies that he held onto far, far longer than he ever should have. Dreams of his friend somehow turned human by the magic of the moon just like in the legends; the two of them standing side by side, hunting, living, always together, but he never truly believed.

Of course his friend would think he wanted this. This impossible thing, a small voice inside keeps saying that he does.

The three wolves have moved together, all of them shifting nervously as their glances jump from the man - their alpha, he supposes - to Jared. He sees the man swallow heavily, green eyes casting to the ground, shining wetly but no tears fall. His proud, stubborn friend.

"I understand," the man's voice is rough as he turns half away from Jared. "You will always be safe here, and under my protection. You needn't worry about that."

He hadn't, honestly, not in the least. In fact, it seems the only thing he can think about at the moment is pulling the man's face to his own and running his fingers through silken hair and somehow making it better. He's being offered this incredible thing he wished for years upon years in the quiet of his own mind. It's possible now, even though every ration bit of his says that this must all be impossible, and yet it's right here. And he wants it. It's disconcerting and leaves him wavering awkwardly in the silence.

It's the sound that breaks him, of course, the high pitched whine of genuine injury; it should be odd coming from a human form, but it isn't. It's just his friend.

"Wait," he says, as the man turns to go, wolves curving around him like a protective force. "Please, I... What's your name?"

His friend, the best and truest he's ever had, stops, turning just enough so that their eyes meet when he says over his shoulder, "Jensen."

"Jensen," Jared repeats, watching green eyes slam shut and flat, white teeth find plump lips at the sound of it. "I'm sorry. It's just, just so much. Can we... talk? Please?"

The man - Jensen - smiles, still soft and trembly around the edges, but enough to soothe the ache in Jared's chest.

"Of course," he says quietly, backtracking to help Jared to his feet. His hands are still burning hot against Jared's own, but he doesn't push to get any closer. "Let's get you somewhere dry, and then we can talk about everything."

His hand lingers against Jared's, the fingers plucking at each other like instrument strings singing through Jared before he finally lets the touch fade away. It takes more effort than it should for Jared not to reach out and reclaim the contact. It takes him a moment to realize what he's just heard.

"Somewhere dry?"

When Jensen grins at him this time, it's genuine, that hint of cunning in his eyes that Jared's thrived on for years.

"Sure. You didn't think we lived out in this mess, did you?" Jensen quips, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jared's ear like he just can't keep himself from touching. At that, he turns heel and starts jogging off easily - as if Jared hadn't nearly killed himself trying to run a hundred feet just minutes ago - the wolves in tow. Jared has nothing left to do but clumsily follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Jared feels numb all over, every bit of him trembling with the chill that is only slightly abated by the constant presence of Jensen at his side; his arms wrapped around Jensen, the only source of warmth he can feel. Jensen of course, seems wholly unaffected by the temperature only fussing over Jared's shivers as though he's not just as soaked through and susceptible to the icy wind. For all Jared knows, he isn't.

He doesn't know how long they’ve been walking - trudging on his part; Jensen and the wolves seem to skip right along through the packed, knee-high snow like it's nothing - what direction they're heading beyond the obvious; deeper into the forest than even Jared's ever gone. He knows he ought to be worried about it but he's not, and for the moment he chooses to believe that's all because of the cold and not any odd, instinctual comfort he takes from Jensen's presence.

At no signal Jared notices, the wolves take off at a run, dark shadows disappearing across night-blue snow between the trees. At his side Jensen perks up too, and Jared catches himself casting around for whatever marker or border they seem to have passed, but there's nothing evident. He might just be too wrung out to see it.

"Almost there," Jensen promises warmly against his cheek and Jared has to fight the urge to turn into the soft brush of skin.

It's only the cold.

Rocks loom from between the trees in front of them - hardly novel, the forest is littered with towering deposits of granite - and for long moments Jared's tired eyes fail to make out the shape of a dark, smooth door hidden in the folds of stone. It opens then and becomes hard to ignore especially with the backlit figure holding it open for them as Jensen shuffles them inside.

Jared isn’t sure what he’d been expecting - hadn't spent much time on contemplating it since his body began to realize how soaked to the skin he was - but it wasn’t this. It's... normal. Nice even.

The room they're standing in seems to be the main room and kitchen all in one, not unlike his parents’ home back in the village except that this was clearly hewn from the stone itself, a burrow inside the granite. It's well appointed; a large hearth with a roaring fire that Jensen immediately deposits him in front of, over which hangs a pot of something that smells entirely too welcoming for Jared's own good. There's other cookware hanging along the smooth walls, heavy iron and gleaming copper, along with ropes of dried herbs and strips of cured meat or hanging furs. There's a long table down the center of the room with twice as many chairs as there are people standing around looking at him, and it's not until a man - shorter than Jared, but strongly built with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes - exits one of the passages to either side of the hearth that he realizes there must be others living here as well.

At the moment it's only the six of them; him, Jensen and the man who just entered as well as two other men and a woman huddled off to the side – one of the men only now tugging on a shirt - all of them watching Jared. The brown haired man goes over to join the circled group and Jared realizes jarringly that he was the mahogany wolf who pinned him not so long ago. From there it's easy to tell that the woman must be the russet wolf, slighter than the others and with satiny, shoulder length hair that's not far off from the fur she bore. The other blue eyed man has to be the sandy-toned wolf, his hair in disarrayed, snow-wet spikes and a look of avid concentration on his face as he studies Jared. The girl's arms are looped around the waist of another man - the one who'd opened the door for them - dishwater-colored hair disguising small, interested eyes.

Jensen stands just off to Jared's side, ever so slightly between him and the others. He wonders what that means.

"Jared," he says, not taking his eyes off of the others though he still manages to find a damp strand of Jared's hair to twine through his fingers, "Why don't we find you something dry to put on?"

Jared knows a suggestion when he hears it and that's certainly not one – it’s a command. He follows Jensen out of the room into the dark passage on the left. The floor slopes gently downward, his footfalls echoing lightly off of what appears to be an all stone corridor. He can't fathom what it must have taken to excavate so much rock.

They pass a few simple wooden doors before Jensen brings them to a halt in the middle of the hall, shouldering his way into one of the rooms. It's not large but still bigger than what Jared grew up sharing with his siblings and from what he can surmise, it's Jensen's alone. He never paid more than passing attention to the deep, spicy smell that came off of the wolf - his wolf - but he can't help but be acutely aware of it now as the scent nestles low and comforting in his lungs.

The floor is carpeted in mismatched furs, some of them obviously worn, others newer. He imagines them soft against his feet as he rolls out of bed in the morning and immediately chides himself for picturing waking up in this room.

It isn't hard to imagine, though, really. Even in his own small cottage, he's never thought of a space much as his, as home, but he supposes this is what such a place would look like if he'd ever troubled to make one for himself.

The candle Jensen lights reveals a simple wooden desk, covered in a scattering of books and papers that Jared finds himself desperately curious over as well as a small, polished steel mirror and a thin blade for shaving. There's a random assortment of clothes taking up residence in small piles here and there, and what looks like an extra pair of boots shoved under the wide, low bed that dominates the space. It looks comfortable and Jared is once again hit by how tired he is. It feels like the day has lasted a lifetime.

Jensen clears his throat awkwardly and turns around to face Jared, hand palming the back of his own skull. "It's a bit of a mess," he mumbles, clearly uneasy, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Jared finds himself smiling without a second thought.

"I like it," he pronounces, making a small circle in place to take in the full effect. Jensen beams outright and flops backward onto the bed. He crosses his arms behind his head, bunching the dark blue blanket covering part of the mattress and accidentally flipping over... a hood? Jensen's blanket has a hood?

Jared cranes his neck, stepping closer to get a good view and he can see Jensen's face flush and then blanch in rapid succession.

"I lost that cloak two years ago!" Jared says indignantly, pointing at the worn, blue wool Jensen seems to be doing his best to discreetly cover. He's failing miserably.

"Yeah, well," Jensen mumbles, "maybe less so than you think." He smiles sheepishly and gives a watery laugh. "It's just going to sound worse if I explain it," Jensen shrugs.

He gets to his feet again and paces to the far side of the room and then halfway back, never quite meeting Jared's gaze. With a muted scrape, the chair pulls out from his desk and Jensen takes a folded set of clothes off of the seat, handing them out at arm’s length to Jared. _His own_ clothes, actually; Jared recognizes them as a set that went missing off of the line not two days before.

"I'll just" Jensen mutters something at his feet and jerks his thumb at the door, "let you get changed. Can you find your way...?" He trails off uncertainly, but his eyes finally do flicker back up to meet Jared's again.

"Can I find my way back along the straight hallway to the only other open room in the place? Somehow I'll manage." Perhaps the snip of it wasn't entirely necessary but he's not stupid and he's just discovered that apparently Jensen steals his clothes for undefined reasons – Jared's not feeling particularly charitable.

Jensen at least has the decency to blush again - damned if that's not peculiarly adorable - and Jared gets a crystal clear mental image of his little wolf ears laying flat to his head.

"Right. I'll leave you to it then," Jensen says, lingering at the doorway for one moment longer before shutting it tightly behind him.

Jared strips out of his wet things quickly, his mind operating slightly clearer now that he's warm and has an extra shot of annoyance bubbling through his veins. Stealing his clothes! What in the two hells would Jensen want with his clothes?! They're certainly too big to fit him, and he doesn't seem to need warm winter-wear anyway, so what exactly was the point?

It occurs to Jared sometime between fastening his breeches and pulling his damp boots back on that maybe in the grand scheme of things, it's a little unusual that the part of this that's got him all wound up is the pilfered clothing. He desperately needs a drink.

Jared shuts Jensen's door behind him and moves as quietly as he can down the hall, wary of disturbing any... werewolves... without Jensen around to protect him. Not that he needs Jensen to protect him. Probably. But a good hunter knows to always be cautious.

"I told you it was too much all at one go," a soft feminine voice carries down from the main room, "You can't just walk up to a human and tell him that werewolves are real and by the way, you are one and by the way, he's your mate and then expect him to just embrace it all with open arms, Jensen. They aren't equipped to handle this sort of thing."

"Your criticism has been duly noted, Danneel," Jensen's voice says tightly. Jared can see the man's jaw clench in his mind's eye.

"He shouldn't be here," a deep voice adds, "I'm all for establishing the new regime, but this is taking it too far. There are some traditions that are respected for a reason."

"If he's going to be one of us, then what does it matter if he sees the den now or once he's turned?" a fourth, slightly raspier male voice chimes in.

"We don't know if he's going to turn, Misha," the deep voice spits, "Our fearless leader's too afraid to face down his own mate."

There's a loud growl that makes Jared's pulse skitter and he takes a step back reflexively.

"Enough!" Jensen's voice is overlaid with the vibration of his displeasure. No one else speaks up. "I will not turn Jared against his will, no matter what. If he chooses not to join us, then…” he can hear Jensen’s breath hitch even from here, “so be it, but he wouldn't betray us either. He's here. He stays. For however long he wishes."

"Jensen," the raspy voice says tentatively and then there's the soft scuff of feet just before Jensen's form blots the light from the doorway ahead. He smiles at Jared and scrubs his hand at his neck again, all of the power and confidence he heard moments before dissolving to nothing.

"Jared!" he says, voice slightly too high, "Didn't hear you come in," he waves Jared in, beckoning him into the warm glow of the fire, "Are you hungry? There's food, if you're hungry, I mean. Or not, if you're not. You don't have to eat. I just thought you might be and there is if you are." Jensen snaps his mouth shut, visibly forcing himself to stop babbling.

Jared can't help the way he feels his lips turn up at the corners, but before he can open his mouth to answer, Jensen's searching eyes land on the sandy-haired man leaned against the wall to Jared's right.

"That's Misha," he says, with far more conviction than necessary. Misha gives him a blithe smile and a nod before Jensen continues. "And Christian," the dark-haired one who'd tackled Jared glares, "Danneel," the woman smiles understandingly and waves, "And her mate, Steve," the last man gives Jared a firm nod petting absently over the woman's hip.

Jensen's blushing and rubbing at the back of his neck yet again - Jared's beginning to worry he won't have any skin left there before the night is over. It's strange to try and equate the nervous man next to him to the cocksure creature who'd perched across his lap in the woods so certain that Jared would just go along with... whatever it is that they want from him.

They're all watching him waiting on him to say something, so he nods amiably that food would be nice and everyone bursts into action, even though Steve seems to be the only one actually dishing up stew for Jared; the others all just mill around with a semblance of purpose. There's an undeniable tension in the air, but probably the most unsettling thing of all for Jared is how very little he actually feels unsettled.

***

"Mate," Jared states quietly to the bottom of his now-empty clay bowl. Misha takes it away for him, but he can feel those blue eyes linger, ever intent. The attention of the room is on him again, never truly left though he was able to ignore it as he gulped down rabbit stew by the scalding mouthful. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating.

Five sets of eyes are focused on him and there's no denying now that when the firelight hits just right, those eyes glow, wolfishly reflective, in the half-light. It's eerie, despite the way his body seems to be striving perversely to sink into relaxation.

"Well," he continues when no one rises to take the bait, "Are we going to dance around it all night or are we going to discuss this?"

Behind him Misha makes a low noise that might be a laugh and moves over just enough that Jared can catch sight of him in the corner of his eye. "Right to the point, Jensen," he nods and Jared thinks he catches a quick wink following it.

"What would you like to know, Jared?" Danneel steps in matter-of-factly, seating herself directly across from him. Jensen's sitting at the head of the table – he hadn’t eaten, but he’d hovered watching Jared’s every mouthful as though it was essential to him to learn the way Jared chews - Jared to his left, Danneel to his right while all the others stand around the walls; he wonders if there's something about rank to that or just convenience - the dynamics here are all terribly confusing.

"Everything," he replies honestly.

Danneel laughs, "Ambitious. How about we start with the basics?"

"Fine."

"Well, you know the legends," she begins awkwardly, glancing around at the men as if looking for reinforcement. "Obviously the full moon part is a myth, but that gives you the gist of what we are."

"How long have you all been-"

"Always," Misha answers, coming over to lean against the table at Jared's side. Danneel gives him a small, appreciative nod. "We're born this way."

"But,” Jared falters slightly on the phrasing, “you can turn people; humans, I mean."

"It's possible," Misha nods, "but it's not common practice. It hasn't been done in our pack for generations."

"Why not?"

Christian grumbles from the corner, "Because humans are more trouble than they're worth," giving the fireplace a look that suggests it's mortally offended him. Jensen glares at the man and a barely audible tremor hangs in the air, like the bare beginnings of a growl.

The vibrato is still lingering on his voice when he says gently, “We don't turn humans because it's very… personal. Being pack is, well, it's different than being part of a human family - from what I understand. It's not just sharing blood; it's connection, soul-deep. It's not the kind of commitment that we take lightly."

And yet Jensen had just handed him the offer like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"But you… before, you acted like it was nothing." He doesn't mean it come out sounding quite as accusatory as it does, but it's been a damnably long night already and none of this is making any more sense than it did back out in the snow - it's really beginning to wear on his nerves. Jensen stares down into his lap like a scolded child and digs at the edge of the table with his thumbnail. He's biting his lip, and unbidden, the memory of that softness against Jared's own mouth springs forth.

"It's everything." It's Misha who says it, solemn as the grave, but they feel like Jensen's words. Everyone is silent in the moment after, as though Misha just made so deathly pronouncement. Christian knocks his bare heel back against the wall.

"It… is this… the mate thing you were talking about?" Jared quests around the room with his eyes, but for the first time tonight, no one's looking at him.

Slowly Jensen nods and Jared can feel the occasional brush of cloth as the green eyed man's legs bounce restlessly under the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jared urges.

Danneel takes a deep breath and gains command of the conversation again, looking up at him with dark, soulful eyes. "A mate is just what it sounds like. It's the person you're supposed to be with." Steve steps in to rest his hand on her shoulder and her own twines around his wrist without a glance.

There's a sort of warmth radiating out from that touch - not one that he can physically feel, but he senses it anyway; the connection, the love running through that simple contact. He finds his eyes sliding over to Jensen, who's watching Danneel and Steve, a look on his face that's something akin to longing.

It's a very pretty face. Jared had noticed that before, of course, but he'd had other matters on his mind at the time, like the discovery that werewolves exist and he’s spent half his life running around with one. Now he takes the time to really look; trace the jut of strong bones, the fall of thick eyelashes over liquid jade depths, the full curve of plush lips juxtaposed by the glint of auburn-tinged stubble as the light catches on his jaw. He's beautiful, stunningly so now that Jared's paying attention, and his stupor lets the single hollow thought echoing in his head slip past his lips.

"But we're men."

The burst of laughter is so jarring in the stillness the Jared jumps enough to set his chair rocking on its legs. Misha covers his mouth, but it does very little to stifle the sounds of mirth shaking him.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, his rough voice choked with laughter, "It's just adorable that that was your first problem with all of this."

Danneel ducks her head, lips pressed hard between her teeth like she's biting back a smile and Steve conspicuously turns to face the wall. Even Christian has a small quirk to the side of his mouth. It's really not that funny.

Jensen coughs behind his fist and noticeably schools his expression, but the bright, amused shimmer in his eyes stays. Jared finds he doesn't mind Jensen laughing at him nearly as much as the others.

"Our kind doesn’t have as much of a problem with that as human do," he explains, skating his fingertips up the dark grain of wood in front of him, almost touching Jared's before sliding back.

"Oh."

Actually until then, he hadn't given much thought to the matter. He'd certainly never been attracted to a man, but then again, he'd never known a man as attractive as Jensen. And that particular concern hadn't cropped up at all when he had Jensen's tongue in his mouth back in the woods so apparently at least certain parts of him weren't put off by the idea.

"Does it hurt?"

Jensen looks completely floored by the question, eyes wide, lips parted, blush rising on his cheeks again.

"We start shifting as babies," Misha interjects pointedly, humor coloring his voice, and Jensen perceptibly relaxes, leaning back in his chair with an unsteady breath. The blue eyed man winks at him - definitely a wink this time - and Jensen lifts a shoulder, smiling guiltily. It takes Jared another moment to figure out what Jensen thought he was asking and then Jared can feel the heat as his own cheeks blush too.

"Sort of like teething, but with fur," the blond man blessedly carries on as Jared sinks lower in his chair. "There's a feeling to it, but it's not exactly painful, just…" he casts around to the others for a suggestion.

"Everything feels a little off for a minute or two," Steve finishes for him, which gets a thoughtful nod from Danneel and Jensen.

"And if I…" He can't decide exactly how to put it; saying 'if I turn' makes it sound a lot more like a real possibility than he cares to consider. It's mildly astonishing how easily his mind seems to have accepted the idea that all of this is actually happening.

Danneel gives him a look like a prolonged wince and admits, "We don't really know what it would be like for you. As we said, no one's turned a human around here in a very long time."

"Then how do you even know you can do it right?" Jared decides to ignore the hint of panic in his voice. He really doesn't care to think about what would happen if this 'turning' thing went wrong. Not that it matters, since clearly he's not going to do it. He's not that stupid.

"It's just something we know," Jensen says, "The same way we know to hunt or fight or f-" he breaks off awkwardly, clearing his throat over the manic rhythm his fingers tap out on the table. "We just know."

Misha reaches across Jared to ruffle Jensen's hair. The act earns him a glare that doesn't do anything to wipe the knowing smirk off of his face as Jensen fails miserably at rearranging his displaced locks. For whatever reason, it makes Jared feel starkly like he's sitting back in his parents’ cottage - bizarrely homey.

The feeling's disconcerting enough that the urge to leave the room before he does something stupid jolts through him, rolling unsteadily in his belly, itching under his skin.

"I- I need to think about all of this," he explains as he stands, realizing only once he's up that he's got nowhere to go. Thankfully Danneel seems to pick up on his concern and says cheerfully, "I'll help you get settled; there are several open rooms toward the end of the west hall. We'll set you up there for the night." She crosses around the table to take him by the elbow and steer him toward one of the hallways - not the one Jensen's room was on. He can't miss the look of disappointment on Jensen's face, even if he sort of wishes he could.

***

"Does Christian hate all humans, or just me?" It's not quite the question he wants to ask, but it's the one that comes out as Danneel lays a thick pallet out on the room's empty bed frame. It's about the same size as Jensen's room, but not nearly as cozy. It's clear from the fine powering of dust on the single chair that makes up the room's other furnishings, that the place has been closed up for a while.

"He's just being protective." She smiles up at him and runs the backs of her fingers over the curve of his neck. The touch is gone before he even has a chance to startle. "It wasn't easy, you know," the girl continues, fluffing up the mess of padding on the bed,“For Jensen to grow up the way he did - bonded to a human since before he could hunt. Not everyone takes to those kinds of pairings." There's something to the way she says it that gives bodes significance and Jared remembers what Jensen had said about the last alpha keeping them apart, wonders if that's what she means. "Jensen will always be the baby of the family to Chris; he's only trying to make sure Jen doesn't get hurt any more than he has to.”

"They're related?"

"They share a father. Christian and Misha had the same mother," she adds like an answer to a question he couldn’t figure out how to ask. "I suppose it's all a little complicated by human standards."

He's known more complicated families actually, but that's not the part he gets stuck on.

"Jensen's father had more than one mate?"

"No" Danneel replies, unfolding a long sheet of cloth. Jared takes one end and helps her stretch it over the length of the bed. "There's no such thing for us; your mate is your mate, no one else. Not all of us find who we're meant to be with though. Jensen's father never found his so he bred with more than one woman, but none of them were his mate."

"So, Jensen could do that, too?" He's not sure if the twinge in his chest is hope or something else he'd prefer not to linger on.

The woman gives him another one of those tender smiles and sits on the edge of the newly-made bed. When she speaks her voice is low, caught between fond and sad. "No. I'm not really sure how to make sense of it in human terms. It's just… if you've never found your mate, then it doesn't matter who you're with, it's all the same. But once you know that feeling, everything else pales in comparison; it could never be enough just to be with whoever's around."

Jared sits down too; there’s suddenly a lead-weight drag on his shoulders that he can’t seem to manage standing up. "So if I don't do this, he'll be alone? Forever?"

Danneel picks at a fingernail and nods slowly, eyes fixed on the floor.

"For the rest of his life, yes."

The sigh that worms out of Jared seems to be the only thing holding him up. He flops back onto the bed and stares at the smooth, unmarred stone of the candlelit ceiling. "Well that's comforting."

"Jared," she hauls herself up, words grating out of her throat like it’s tearing her apart to say them, "I can't imagine what it must be like for you. With us, when you find your mate it's undeniable, there's no consideration to be put forth; no need to make a choice when it feels as strong as it does. But what's being asked of you isn't small. This is for keeps, bound for life. It's not a decision you can make based on what's best for anyone else. Even Jensen."

It's written all over her face how hard that is to say and Jared thinks about the 'soul-deep' bond that Jensen said. He remembers what it was like when his sister was young, the crush she'd had on the village priest, how broken up she'd been when he married another girl. She'd only been twelve at the time and he doubted if the priest had ever even noticed her, but she'd spent the better part of two days crying over every little thing in their house, from the roof beams to the spice rack, because it somehow reminded her of him. He remembers how, obnoxious though she was about it, seeing her hurt had ached inside of him with the need to fix it. He wonders - if this connection between the wolves really is so strong, what will it do to the rest of them if he denies Jensen?

Danneel tucks her hair behind her ears, eyes once again focused on any point in the room that's not Jared, then finally nods and turns toward the door.

"You kill humans" He says it quietly, half hoping she won't hear, but she stops and turns back to him, head cocked to the side in a move that makes him think, salt on a raw wound, of Jensen as a wolf.

It's true, the wolves have a dangerous reputation as old as the village itself, and even though he can only think of one or two serious injuries that have happened at their hands - fangs - in his lifetime, there's no denying that people have been killed before. When Jensen was just a wolf, the idea that his kind had hurt humans had never mattered much to Jared, but now, maybe it does.

"Only if we can't avoid it," she says, still gentle, but there's no avoiding the defensive lilt of her voice "We have to protect ourselves too, and there are plenty of humans who would - _have_ \- tried to come after the pack; so we attack whenever humans come near to keep them afraid of us. We don't hurt them more than we can help. All we've done is carve out a place for ourselves in the world, the same as your kind do."

Jared nods his head idly. It's hard to fault the wolves for their tactics - short of revealing themselves for what they are, Jared can't think of a better plan to keep people away from them. And even revealing themselves would likely only make matters worse.

Not for the first time, Jared finds himself lying out in the heart of the wilderness, wondering who the real animals are.

"Is it worth it?"

"Attacking humans?"

He huffs a wry laugh at himself - Danneel's ready to defend her pack's actions and Jared's not even bothering to fuss it - like maybe he'd only been looking for an excuse all along. "No. The… being someone's mate. Is it worth it?"

The shift seems to surprise Danneel too, but she breaks into a half-smile and leans against the doorway "For me? It's the only way to live."

***

Jared's running. The night is black as pitch and too warm, sweat breaking out in a cold, sickly sheen on his skin. His legs burn but it doesn't seem to matter how hard he pushes, he's not making any headway. He can see them, right out in front of him through the trees, the light of their torches like demon eyes in the darkness. If he can just get there, just get to him, it'll be alright.

His heart stops for a beat, blood simmering in the stillness of his veins as the firelight catches on the glinting curve of a blade. Blade _s_ , more than one. They all have one and they're going after Jensen.

A vicious growl rips the air and he doesn't know if it's from his own throat or the wolf’s or if there’s any difference anymore. Just like that he breaks through the circle of angry faces and crashes to the ground.

Jensen grunts as he takes the weight of their fall, but there's no other sound. They're alone. Jared wonders how they always end up on top of one another.

His chest is heaving against Jensen's from the run, dirt from the clearing - the clearing where they first met - sticking to his sweaty hands as he tries to push himself up, but Jensen's palms settle on his back with a whisper of 'stay' and then he doesn't care about moving anymore. There's nowhere else he wants to be.

The soft heat of Jensen's mouth welcomes him and he can't stifle the moan that spills out only to be swallowed up by the other man. Jensen's all muscle and fire, the intensity of it sinking into Jared's skin and consuming him from the inside until it's like he's burning too. Nothing's ever felt so good.

Jensen's strong hands are gripping him, sliding restlessly over his clothes, burrowing his way to bare skin. Jensen's hard body writhing underneath him, up against him, pleading for everything Jared wants so badly to give. Jensen’s even harder length, riding against Jared's rough and perfect with the sharp catch of damp skin; so damned good. Jensen's soft lips and sharp teeth and the tense, vulnerable whine coming up out of his throat as Jared rocks his hips down harder, faster, needier.

Jensen breaks away from the kiss, noses against Jared's ear so every jagged, desperate breath sends shivers quaking down his spine, each exhale colored with his name. The fingers at his hips dig in bruisingly, Jensen's body goes rigid and with a rough growl, pointed canine teeth sink home behind Jared's left ear.

Slick warmth spreads over Jared's pulsing cock, slicking the way as he ruts helplessly against the rough cloth beneath him. It takes longer than it should to fight through the haze of pleasure and figure out that he's laying on the slightly musty sheets of his makeshift bed in the wolves' home. It takes longer than that to sort out which bits were a wild dream and which impossible bits actually happened.

Jared’s life used to be simple.

He's still lying there, sticky with sweat and his own release, when a knock on the door reminds him that he can't hide forever. 


	3. Chapter 3

There's another quiet tap-tap-tap at the door and Jared has just enough time to sit up and get the covers bunched around his naked body. Probably shouldn't have slept naked now that he thinks about it, but at least he hadn't ruined his pants - before the door slowly opens.

Jensen's head peeks around the frame as he softly inquires, "Jared?"

There's a second that moves too fast and too slow at the same time; Jared sees Jensen see him, green eyes darkening as they take in his bare chest and legs sticking out from the sheets. He sees Jensen's cheeks flush, his nostrils flare and then the man's breathing in. Jared doesn't need to guess what scent Jensen catches on the air that makes him whimper, teeth slamming into his bottom lip hard enough that crimson blooms around the edges of ivory-white.

A needy, choked off noise squeezes into the air, followed by a clatter. Jared realizes as the door swings slightly open under its own weight, is the sound of an earthenware bowl hitting the ground - miraculously unbroken - and the water inside of it sloshing out onto the floor as well as the little polished-steel mirror he'd seen in Jensen's room the night before.

Jensen has his forehead rolling again the doorjamb, his eyes pressed tightly shut and fingers gripping futilely at the smooth stone. He's drawing in heavy breaths through his nose, wincing slightly with each one, but apparently unable to stop himself. There's no way for Jared not to notice the bulge in the front of the other man's loose pants as his hips rock, seemingly unconsciously, into the unyielding doorjamb or the answering wave of heat that floods him at the sight. Now it's his turn to chew on his lip.

"I thought you might want to-" Jensen looses a sickly bark of a laugh, "clean up. I didn't- I have to- Oh, gods. There's breakfast when you're ready." The words come out in a tumble, his fingers rasping against the stone like it's an effort to pull them away, and then Jensen's gone; nothing but the receding slap of bare feet running across rock.

***

There had been just enough water left in the bowl for Jared to get the worst of the mess off of his skin. Not nearly enough to make use of the shaving razor that he'd found underneath the mirror, but it would suffice. Honestly, Jared was a lot more worried that the wolves would all know what had happened from some scent of release lingering on his skin - he wasn't sure yet how strong their senses were, but it was obvious from Jensen's reaction that they were quite a bit sharper than a human's.

Still, they would eventually notice if he never came out of his room - _the_ room, not _his_ \- and his stomach was making it clear that the wolves weren't the only ones around here who could growl.

Jared dresses quickly in his clothes from last night and heads up to main room where he can only assume breakfast will take place. Whatever's cooking smells heavenly and the salt-spice smell of meat frying overwhelms any reservations he might have had about barging right in.

"New guy!" an unfamiliar voice shouts exuberantly, just a second's warning before Jared's got an armful of bald-headed man. Jared stands stiff with shock, not entirely sure what's going on as the smaller man hugs him and then leans up to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. The impromptu affection is cut off by a threatening snarl that Jared - to his own surprise - immediately recognizes as Jensen's.

The hairless man lets go of Jared like he's been burned and another man - almost as tall as Jared with slightly shaggy, dark hair and bright blue eyes; Jared wonder's if this one's related to Christian and Misha too - hauls him back by the waist with a deferring nod to Jensen's stony glare.

"Or not," the bald man says from the circle of the tall man's arms, clearly stunned. Jensen puffs a sigh and rolls his eyes, but the tension melts off of him.

"Jared, this is Michael and Thomas," he introduces with clear exasperation. "Boys, this is Jared. Mike, don't touch him."

"Ah!" Michael squawks indignantly, "What about Tom?"

Jensen glances absently over his shoulder, "Tom can touch him, that's fine." Michael makes another outraged noise and sticks his lip out in a pout, but it's completely ruined by the amused sparkle of his eyes.

"Don't I get a say in who touches me?" Jared asks bitingly, but he can't keep it up with the way Jensen's face heats and he fumbles at an almost desperate apology - especially when all that does is remind Jared of the way the other man looked just minutes ago in his doorway. _The_ doorway, not _his_. Damn it.

The moment Jensen picks up and the curve of Jared's lips, his face falls into a perturbed scowl and he whaps Jared on the arm.

Jared grins back, but he makes sure to rest and arm on Michael's shoulder nonetheless. The smaller man grins up at him fiendishly and says, "Welcome to the pack," before he breaks off to take a seat at the table next to Tom and strikes up a whispered conversation.

"See," Jensen mutters, sidling up to Jared so that their arms press together on each breath, "you've befriended a madman. This is why you should listen to me."

Jared has to admit that the fervent way Michael's whispering to Tom and shooting glances over his way is no little bit unsettling, but Jensen's smiling over it, so he must not be terribly worried.

"I'm still adjusting to the fact that you talk," Jared shrugs, bumping his shoulder into Jensen's. It seems like every little contact makes the other man light up from within.

There's something he can't keep from wondering, but he has to lean in close to breathe the question into Jensen's ear, not sure how keen everyone's hearing is. "What does he look like as a wolf?" he nods toward Michael, not entirely missing the shiver that runs through Jensen as he speaks, "I mean, without…" he scrubs a hand through his hair in indication, raising his eyebrow at Jensen. His green eyes look slightly glazed.

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, heh, Michael's rather _distinctive_ in the fur. I'm sure you'll get a chance to see it sooner or later." He doesn't voice the obvious 'if you stay' and Jared chooses to concentrate on getting the image of a bald wolf out of his mind. It's entirely too disturbing.

About that time, Misha rounds on them, balancing a plate in each hand piled high with sausage, eggs and some kind of small, round roll. He forces one into Jared's hands and ducks out of the way when Jensen makes a grab for the second.

"Sorry, oh Great Alphatic One, you'll have to get your own plate," Misha gives Jensen a swift mock-bow - a mistake since Jensen takes to opportunity to swoop in and retrieve Misha's plate with a smug grin.

"Fine, I will!" He laughs at Misha's scandalized expression, "And I'm reasonably sure 'alphatic' isn't a word; Your Highness will suffice. Maybe Your Lordship, or Splendorous One."

The slap Misha aims at the back of Jensen's head goes high as the younger man ducks and manages to set his plate down on the table before back-stepping to knock into Misha and send them both tumbling to the floor in a lighthearted wrestling match.

Jared doesn't try to stifle a laugh watching them play at fighting - Jensen is clearly better, though Misha's holding his own - and goes to set his plate down in the same seat he took last night, just to the side of Jensen’s. Another plate slides into the spot, almost knocking Jared's onto the floor before he manages to hastily catch it. Christian smirks at him with blue eyes like ice and settles himself in the chair.

Danneel's in the seat directly across the table, just like last night, with Steve next to her. She glares at Christian but doesn't say anything and ultimately motions Jared over to take the seat on the other side of Steve. His only other real option - if he's going to remain as close as he can to Jensen, not that that matters to him - is sitting next to Christian, and quite frankly, he doesn't put it past the man to try and poison his food.

As Jared rounds the table to settle in next to Steve, he finds himself wondering if there's a discreet way to ask who cooked, just to make sure. Still, the food is good, poisoned or not, and Jared digs in with abandon.

Jensen glares at Christian too once he and Misha are done playing around, but then he looks down the table at Jared and seems to decide not to make everyone move halfway through the meal. It doesn't keep him from visibly sulking, though.

Across from Jared, Mike and Tom are still whispering, but it doesn't look to have anything to do with him anymore; now they're just sliding glances at one another and occasionally leaning in to mutter something that look awfully private and then kiss. It all seems remarkably intimate, but no one else seems to be paying it any attention, as though this happens every day.

Once he's looking for it, it’s almost shocking that he didn't see it before - how much the wolves really touch. The rest of them aren't quite as obvious about it as Mike and Tom are - not even Danneel and Steve, whose hands are simply curled together under the surface of the table - but they all touch, mates or not. When Misha sits down between Christian and Tom, they all very subtly, probably reflexively, lean toward one another so that every time one of them moves, they end up brushing against each other. Likewise, Steve's arm keeps touching him as the man shovels bites of food into his mouth, and every now and then, their knees would meet when one or the other adjusts. Danneel's hand will occasionally slip up to brush against Jensen's and for all that it should be flirtatious or calculated, it's simple organic.

He leans in to speak close to Steve's ear - not quite as close as he did to Jensen's, but that's purely happenstance. "The touching is important?" he asks, although the answer is fairly obvious. Steve looks at him curiously for a moment and then seems to understand.

"Oh, yeah. We're, um, tactile, I guess. Is it bothering you?" The man pulls slightly away at that so there's a sliver of space between him and Jared all over.

"No," Jared answers, not realizing until after it's out of his mouth how true that is. He's never had a problem with being touched, but aside from his family - and sometimes even them - most of the people in the village live in various states of wariness whenever Jared's around. Reasonably, he thinks, all of this contact should make him more uncomfortable than it does.

Tom hums a low laugh and presses forward to share a lingering kiss with Michael, his hand clasped around the other man's jaw. "Alright," Jared admits, still whispering as he nods toward to embracing couple, "That's maybe a little much, but the rest is just fine."

Steve shares a smile with him and nods ruefully. "Those two. You'd think they were mated yesterday, the way they go at it."

"They're together, then?"

Steve's eyebrow shoots up. He looks over at Tom and Mike - still sharing soft kisses - and then back at Jared. Alright, it was a stupid question.

"So that's not just the honeymoon." He watches as Tom's fingers dips underneath the collar of Mike's shirt, sliding along the ledge of bone there. No one else seems to be paying attention.

"Nearly four years now," Steve sighs around a smile, "It's sickening."

"And, you and Danneel? Longer than that?" He hasn't figured out how to map out the ages around here, if they all age the same way humans do or not, but he would have put Danneel and Steve at about his own age, which would have made them awfully young to have mated before Mike and Tom.

"Mmm," Steve affirms, "years and years. I was fourteen when I saw her." He doesn't carry on with the story, but from what Danneel told Jared last night, it seems like that's probably all there is to it. Steve saw her and that was it.

Which... huh. Jared had been too strung up on all of the things he had to contemplate last night to really put it together, but if this mating thing works the way Danneel suggested, then that would mean that Jensen had known, had waited for him, ever since they were children. Since that first day in the forest. The concept is too mind-boggling to process.

He's about to ask more, but just then another figure appears out of the hallway where Jared's room - _the_ room, damnit! - lies. This one's an older man - not old, he gives of an aura of vigor that make it clear he could happily take on anyone else in the room, but there are streaks of grey through his black hair. He has a firm jaw, and sharp features with a just a hint of roundness on them that keeps them from being severe. There's hardly a question in his mind that this man is Jensen and Christian's father.

The man is wearing travel-stained clothes, much heavier than the ones most of the others are wearing, though it suddenly occurs to Jared that Mike and Tom are dressed much the same way. He wouldn't have looked askance at any of them if he'd met them traveling on the road.

Everyone looks up when the man enters the room and a palpable tension sings through the air. Dark, shining eyes find Jared immediately and it seems like his whole body grows colder.

The man makes for the door, not hurriedly, but with clear purpose, until Jensen's voice asks with an edge, "Not eating?"

Dark eyes meet green, ice and fire chipping away at one another, and finally the man says gruffly, "I'll eat what I catch."

Christian stands up and carries his empty plate over to a small counter on the far side of the room.

"I'll go with you," he says, "We'll need to fill the larders now, with extra mouths around." The glance he shoots Jared pricks into his skin like a physical thing.

"I can hunt." It comes out of Jared mouth without his permission, ratcheting the tense silence even tighter.

Christian huffs like he doubts Jared's claim, the other man looks like he'd just assume Jared be the hunted.

"A good idea," Jensen breaks through the stress, voice too purposefully pleasant to be anything but the opposite. "Jared and I will come too. We have plenty of experience hunting together." The last bit seems unnecessary - surely they all know what he and Jensen have done together all of these years; they seem to be up on everything else about him - but it makes the older man's jaw clench so Jared can only assume that that was the purpose all along.

Misha stands up wordlessly and carries his plate over to the counter as well, Mike and Tom following his lead, right in front of Danneel and Steve.

"Your cloak is still in my room," Jensen says, locking eyes with Jared, "You'll be needing it." There was too much weight behind the last statement, too much like a threat that Jared knows instinctually wasn't aimed at him. Jensen's standing up for him against the man who’s probably his father and it makes something hot and affection-sticky flood Jared's veins. He gives a firm nod and heads down to Jensen's room to get his cloak, letting his fingers catch and linger for a moment on Jensen's as he passes.

He feels the heat of that touch all the way down the hall.

***

It's amazing how quiet they are; every fall of paw and cold-clouded puff of breath is all but silent. Jared's a good hunter - he hasn't gotten by solely on Jensen's help all of these years - but it's nothing compared to the way the wolves move and he's left feeling gawky and flailing with every crunch of snow beneath his boots.

Following the sounder of wild boar was hardly a challenge – a trail of frozen white mixed with dark earth churned up in their wake - but that doesn't mean it will be an easy kill. The animals - the boar; surprising how quickly Jared's stopped thinking of the wolves as animals - are rooting around a stand of young saplings, tearing up the roots for food, unaware of the deadly audience around them.

As he moves himself into position, Jared can catch glimpses of some of the wolves; a flash of tail, a flurry of snow stirred up by a paw, and in one startling moment, a full-body scramble as Mike skittered out of the way before Jared could manage to blindly trip over his pure-white body. Distinctive, Jared laughs in his mind; yes that was certainly a word for it.

He'd missed it when they all changed, coming back from Jensen's room with his cloak only to find the pack waiting outside for him, all of them already... shifted. Still, it hadn't really been a challenge at all to figure out who was who, and he wonders if that says more about their nature or his own.

He'd never realized before, or for that matter, given any thought to it at all, but now, as he sees - _feels_ \- the pack working as a unit, the understanding is sharp. The way he and Jensen move together, have always moved together, point and counterpoint with an instinctual balance - it's exactly the way the pack moves. It’s disarmingly easy to fall in with them.

On the other side of the copse of trees, there's a sound - the crunch-crunch-crunch of running feet - and as one, the pack surges forward.

The boar panic, wheeling and crying as they try to find openings between the encroaching predators. Most of them escape - there's no way that Jared and the wolves could need that much meat - but the three remaining are doomed.

Mike, Tom, Danneel and Steve take one, the men taking out its legs as Danneel springs on top of it to snap its neck with powerful jaws. Off to the right, Jensen has a large male cornered with Christian and Misha, the three of them dancing in and out of range to snap quick bites as the boar brandishes its tusks. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared catches Jensen jump at the thing's throat and the bubbling scream of death.

He has his own matters to attend though.

The black wolf - _Morgan_ , Danneel had explained; apparently he, Mike and Tom had been buying supplies in a neighboring village last evening - herds the remaining boar, blocking its escape into the trees. His moves are swift and fluid, a patch of midnight against the blinding sparkle of winter, and Jared can see the strength and precision of every feint. This is a man to respected, says the ripple of muscle under inky fur, a man to be feared. But Jared's no weakling, and if Morgan thinks he'll be a hindrance because he's running around on two legs instead of four, well, he has another thing coming.

The blade in Jared's hand in honed to razor-sharpness, as comfortable and fatal in his hand as any fang or claw, and he has no fear in using it.

Jared circles around behind the trapped creature, hunkers down, muscles taut and straining for momentum as he hurls himself forward into the fray. At just the wrong moment, Morgan turns and snaps at the boar’s heels, making the animal’s eyes roll as it wheels away and Jared misses his mark. Freeze-hardened snow scrapes his face, blood surging to the surface, hot and stinging, but he doesn't have time to worry about that now because the boar is frenzied and charging. It takes aim at him with teeth and cloven hooves, and though he manages to twist out of the way of most of the damage, he can feel pain bloom hot across his thigh.

Jared doesn't contemplate that either, his whole existence narrowed down to the flex of the muscles in his arm, the swipe of his knife through the air and the death-knoll snarl that rips from Jensen's throat as he leaps - mouth bloody and dripping around pale fangs - and sinks his teeth along the ridge of the animal's spine. It's all Jared needs, the moment as the boar rears in pain, and then blood colors the snow in a swath, his blade a paintbrush, and it's over.

Jensen disengages the moment the boar turns from creature to carcass and rushes to Jared's side. The whine he lets out is so high pitched that Jared can't make it out until the blood cooling on Jensen's muzzle is pressed against his neck.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he promises, dropping the knife to lift the ragged flap of his torn pants and make sure that he's not lying. The wound is several inches long and bleeding readily, but it's not deep. He doesn't realize until Jensen moves down to examine the gash himself that he'd had his other hand buried in the nape of tawny fur.

Danneel butts against his shoulder with her head and he idly reaches up to scratch behind her ears as well. On his other side, Misha appears with a press of cold nose and a warm swipe of tongue to his cheek. Mike dances nervously half a pace away while Tom nuzzles comfortingly at him, both of their eyes trained on Jared. A shadow sweeps across the snow as Morgan trots around the clearing, checking the other kills; Christian stands awkwardly a little distance off, gaze flickering between them all.

The moment is broken by a sharp gasp as white-hot pain shoots through Jared's body, soothed away the next moment as his nerves adjust to the sensation of Jensen's warm tongue cleaning the wound.

"I'm really alright," comes out slightly breathless and does nothing at all to halt the broken little whimpers Jensen's releasing as he laps at the ragged edge of the cut. "I just need to bandage it when we get back."

Suddenly Misha's standing beside him - not just standing the way he'd been a moment before, but _standing_ , on his own two human legs. And, hello, naked. How had he missed the shift again?!

Ignoring the fact that he is very naked in the snow, Misha grabs Jared's arm and manhandles him to his feet, apparently oblivious of the way Jared is trying to keep as little of his body in contact with Misha’s bare body as possible.

Of course, the whole exercise is pointless, because then Jensen's at his other side, also utterly naked, and completely disregards what Jared thinks are perfectly natural boundaries to slip under Jared's arm and wrap his hands around Jared's waist. As if Jared can't stand perfectly well on his own. He can - mostly - although now it's less his thigh he's worried about than what he's sure in an obvious tent in the front of his torn pants. His body feels tingly and warm everywhere Jensen touches him and there's no point in even pretending that there's any reason for that other than the fact that Jensen is stunningly attractive, even with the lingering smudges of blood across his face and chest.

And naked. So very naked. Jared really needs to stop staring.

He vaguely notices Tom has also turned back into a human - is it really necessary for everyone to be naked? - and is hoisting one of the boars over his shoulder. The one on the far side of the glade is gone, as is Morgan, and he can only assume the man has already started back toward the den with their kill. Misha and Steve - he supposes they must all be used to seeing one another without clothes - take the remaining carcass between them while Danneel and Mike both remain as wolves, prancing around Jared and Jensen's feet as they walk. Somewhere several paces off to the side, he occasionally catches glimpses of Christian's mahogany fur through the trees; head pointed down, ears flat to his head.

"Aren't you freezing?" he asks inanely, but his mind just can't seem to grasp the idea of Jensen walking along with him in the snow, really extremely naked, and that the only concern on his face is for Jared. Also, talking helps distract him from the spasm of pain every time he moves his right leg.

Jensen shrugs under his arm, shifting his hold around Jared's middle so he's taking a little more of Jared's weight.

"We run a little hotter than you do," he says, mind clearly not on the words. He bumps Jared's cheek with his nose and it's so very wolfish that Jared can't help but smile.

The grip around Jared's waist shifts again and he's barely putting any weight at all now on his injured leg.

"I'm not letting you carry me," he snaps, turning to stare Jensen in the eye.

The other man looks disgruntled when he says, "Of course not," as if the suggestion is ludicrous, but there's something furtive in the furrow of his brow that lets Jared know he guessed his intentions right. "I could, though," Jensen mumbles, kicking at the snow with his bare toes.

"No," Jared insists firmly and Jensen pouts his lips a little more.

"Stubborn."

"You love me," Jared grins easily. It's only after the joke is out, after he feels the warmth of Jensen's soft smile break over him that he knows it wasn't a joke at all. Jensen loves him.

It shouldn't be the stunning revelation it is – after all, it's what they've been talking about practically this whole time; together forever. It's just that up until now it's been couched in the word 'mate' and somehow Jared's human mind hadn't put the two together, even after seeing it right in front of his eyes. It's not just 'together' that they're talking about, or 'connected' or whatever else he might have guessed; this is love, Jensen loving him and asking Jared to love him back.

The idea makes something rough and hot build up in his throat and when he turns his face into the warm crook of Jensen's neck, he knows the whimper the other man lets out has nothing to do with concern.

***

The heat of the water burns and soothes in turn, and Jared finally gives up on anything but lying back on the bed and letting Jensen take care of him.

There aren't any windows in his makeshift room and the dark and the morning’s excitement make it easy to forget that it's barely past midday. Danneel had laid out new sheets for him without a word and soon after, Jensen had appeared in the doorway with a bowl of warm water and everything he'd need to bandage Jared up.

At least he’s wearing pants now.

Then again, now Jared's _not_ wearing pants so Jensen can clean and wrap his thigh properly - just the covers bundled haphazardly over his lap - so he's not sure he's any better off.

The other man's broad hands are surprisingly tender, cleaning away the caked blood with a wet cloth and smoothing over the bruised edges with gentle fingertips. Every now and then, he lets out a small noise that's not quite a whine and seems compelled to lay a small kiss over the wounded skin. Jared can't bring himself to complain.

The poultice Jensen rubs across it stings but Jared grits his teeth through it and the pain subsides quickly into a pleasant numbness. He'll have to find out what that stuff is.

Deft fingers tie off the clean bandage, but Jensen doesn't move from where he's crouched between Jared's knees, instead thumbing slow circles over the skin just below the cloth. Reluctantly he looks up at Jared, gilded green behind smoky lashes, and Jared finds himself overwhelmed by the urge to touch. Jensen's eyes flutter shut as he leans into the hand Jared cups to his jaw.

"He was the alpha, wasn't he?" Jared couldn't say why he chooses this moment to ask, only that somehow it seems vitally important to know; to know everything Jensen's done for him without his ever being aware of it. "Morgan, I mean. Your father."

Jensen's eyes find him again, something moving within them like he's trying to decide how to phrase the answer, but in the end he just nods and kisses Jared's wrist. With the pressure of his fingers Jared urges Jensen down beside him, eye to eye, barely an inch separating the radiating warmth of their bodies.

“There was an alpha before him, there’ll be one after me,” Jensen says non-chalantly, his fingertips barely resting at Jared’s hip. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

The image of Jensen as a wolf barrels to the front of his mind; the way he had looked just a week ago, scratched up, skin torn, aching and limping like he’d been in the fight of his life. Now Jared knows why, and with whom, and for some reason it makes him want to charge out of the room and find Morgan just to make sure he knows what seeing those injuries did to Jared.

"Why now?" he asks instead, thumb playing at the curve of Jensen's cheekbone. The ease he's allowed to touch with feels better than he'd care to admit.

Jensen bites his lip - the small line of red along the inside where he broke the skin this morning is still visible - then takes a deep breath that doesn't match the whisper of, "You brought up mates, a lot recently. I was worried that there might be... that you might have... it was selfish, but I'd been waiting for the right moment for what felt like forever and to lose out now... I was afraid."

The bruised muscle still twinges when Jared moves himself in close enough that he and Jensen touch from chest to knee, but it's absolutely worth it.

"I thought I'd lost you yesterday," Jared says, suddenly struck by how long ago it seemed when he’d been kneeling out in the snow, crying over the friend he'd thought he'd lost. How much he'd gained since then.

"You could never lose me." Jensen nudges their noses together, his hand finding Jared's hair to get tangled up in. For a long moment the silence is only broken by the sounds of their breath, the world swallowed up in the endless depth of green eyes staring back at him.

"Don't leave me," Jensen begs quietly against Jared's lips, eyes suddenly pinched tight, "You don't have to turn, you don't have to do anything, just don't leave me, please."

The breaths between them shake with need and Jared swallows up whatever else Jensen might have to say with coaxing lips and the hot glide of tongue. He sinks into the slow, thick kisses like a warm bath, the tension dissolving out of him until nothing left but a heavy lassitude and the smoldering burn low in his gut.

It's not an answer - he still doesn't have one to give - but as he surrenders to sleep under the lazy press of Jensen's lips and the heat of his strong arms, Jared thinks maybe he's closer to finding his way.


	4. Chapter 4

Jared's not sure how much time passes before he wakes to the feel of Jensen's tongue winding hungrily around his own. At the moment, he doesn't particularly care about time or anything at all that's not directly related to the wet, hot slip of Jensen's lips on his or the warm weight of Jensen's leg pressed snug against his enthusiastic arousal. It's all very fulfilling, especially with an answering hardness pressed against his hip as Jensen slowly rocks them together. Jared can't exactly remember why this was supposed to be a bad idea.

Jensen makes a deep noise that tickles as it vibrates against Jared's lips and runs all through his chest, waking him up all over. The moist heat of Jensen's mouth trails down his jaw line, up over his ear with a sound that's startlingly like a purr and then around to that hollow behind his ear where the long-ago scar from Jensen's puppy teeth lies; he's never found that spot to be particularly exciting.

Still, he can feel his eyes roll back in his head as soon as Jensen nips at it, sensation flowing thick and divine down from that single point all through his body like warm honey.

"This is an infinitely better way to wake up," Jensen mumbles, not quite managing to stop laying heated little kisses down Jared's neck. Jared has to agree.

He makes an embarrassing noise when Jensen shifts his leg just right, switching up the pressure against Jared's erection and it's so impossibly good he's not sure he can stand it.

"So beautiful," gets lost in the soft bites Jensen is pressing into the tender flesh on the underside of Jared's jaw, but it makes him blush anyway. There's very little left of his mind to devote to embarrassment, though, with the way Jensen just keeps pulling his thoughts apart piece by piece with the rhythm of his hips.

The purring tremor crops up again, this time poured right against the column of Jared's throat along with the gentle pressure of teeth, lingering like a threat or a promise. It's probably not surprising that Jensen tends to use his teeth, given what he is, but it's a complete revelation how much Jared approves of it.

Completely and absolutely approves, actually.

He gets in one jagged gasp against the flexing pressure of Jensen's tongue at the bob of his throat and then that bite clamps fractionally tighter around a keen and damp heat spreads against his hip, soaking onto his skin through the fabric of Jensen's breeches. And that's... holy sweet hells, it's so good.

Jared thrusts up harder against the pliant weight of Jensen's leg, suddenly needing more, ignoring the aching protest of his wounded thigh in favor of the steady throb between his legs.

There's a frustrated moment when Jensen's thigh slips away, and it must show in the perturbed sound he makes because Jensen chuckles against his skin and replaces his thigh with his hand. Jared’s head slams back against the mattress, unable to control himself as the bucks frantically against a grip so tight, so much stronger than any other touch has ever been and just... just right.

He spills with that thought ringing through his head, echoing back on itself in the empty space where his mind used to be, now replaced by the sizzling pleasure riding up his spine.

He's really going to have to apologize to Danneel about the sheets; this is getting to be a habit. Maybe he'll just sleep in pants from now on.

It doesn't occur to him until long minutes later that he's thinking of this as 'from now on'.

"Dinner's nearly ready," Jensen muses, lazily drawing patterns across Jared's chest his fingertips.

"How can you tell?" Jared's not even sure what day it is any more, let alone what time. Jensen looks up from where his head is resting on Jared's shoulder and taps his nose with one finger. Jared breathes deep straining for any hint of something that might resemble food; all he can pick up is the musk of sex and leftover blood clinging to his skin. "That's utterly terrifying," he says, staring at Jensen's nose as though he'll figure out its secrets if he looks hard enough, "You just smell everything?"

"Unfortunately," Jensen grins. "There are some things in life that should never be smelled."

His hands bracket Jared face, fingers delicately playing through matted, sweat-damp hair and the look on his face says he knows some joke that Jared's not in on.

"What?" he asks, suddenly self-conscious. It's only just beginning to sink in around the fog of sated contentment what just happened between them.

Jensen's grin broadens, takes on a smug tilt. "I'm growing on you," he replies, hint of a laugh in his tone. He leans in, mouth hovering over Jared’s just close enough that he accidentally leans up for it only to realize that Jensen’s holding back. The other man’s face could light up the room all on its own – fine, point proven - before he relents and dips in for one more quick kiss.

Jared snorts and turns his head away, but he can't keep the smile off of his face, let alone explain how untrue Jensen’s words really are - he isn't growing on Jared; Jensen grew on him a very long time ago, Jared just didn't know it until now. He feels vaguely left out over that.

"Twelve years, Jared," is spoken right against his ear when he refuses to turn his head back - voice low and deep with something that makes Jared's spent cock twitch feebly, "I'm very good at waiting." Jensen's teeth find the lobe of Jared's ear one last time before he pulls away with a groan.

"Now, I'm going to go change pants." Jensen looks down at the wet front of his breeches and Jared feels his face flush hot. He hadn't been thinking much at all in the middle of things, but now the full weight of it hits him. He and Jensen... well, it wasn't exactly sex, but it wasn't exactly _not sex_ either. It was definitely closer to sex than not. He feels fourteen years old again, except no girl ever made him feel like this.

Jared gets distracted from that particularly embarrassing line of though by Jensen snatching up his cloak from where it's draped over the back of his chair. "And I'm taking this," he adds, slinging it over his shoulder so that the dark spot on the front of his pants in covered.

"I'll want that back, you know," Jared narrows his eyes pointedly. Sacrificing one cloak to Jensen's bed is quite enough.

Jensen laughs, turning halfway out the door to back the first few steps down the hall. If he had a tail, Jared already knows it would be wagging. "You're assuming I'm going to let you leave?" he teases, and then he's out of Jared's line of sight. There's a little part of him that he's never noticed before that seems to ache in answer.

Jared presses the heel of his hand over the middle of his chest, feeling out the flat of bone there just over the beat of his heart as though he can massage the ache away. He lays there for a long while contemplating the erratic course of action his life has set out on in the last 24 hours, how different everything is now than he ever imagined it could be, and the choice he knows he has to make.

He should probably be more concerned that he's lying naked on the bed, covered by nothing but a thin sheet and the itchy mess of his own release - _again_ \- but the thought doesn't even occur until a deeper shadow darkens his doorway.

Morgan's shape would be obvious, even if he didn't step into the pool of light cast by the little oil lamp on the floor and shut the door behind him. Jared sees him sniff at the air, snort out again forcefully as if the scent is repugnant to him with a slight hitch of his lip like he's barely suppressing a sneer.

"Enjoying yourself, human?" the man queries in a voice that wishes Jared a swift and violent death.

"Yes, everyone's been quite welcoming," Jared matches him tone for tone, "Thank you so much for asking." He had wondered earlier, if maybe Morgan's timing with the boar hadn't been entirely accidental and the thought grows more solid in his mind by the moment.

Morgan snaps, "Don't get smart, down-breed. You'll find me less receptive to your whims than the others."

"I wasn't aware it was _my_ whims that I was exorcising."

"The boy doesn't know what's good for him, not with you here, turning his head around."

"I've never done anything to Jensen," Jared snaps defensively.

"No?" the man's eyebrows arch, face a mask of mock-incredulity, "Maybe my sense of smell deceives me."

Jared mentally curses the blush he can feel rising on his cheeks and the fact that he's stuck laying here, naked but for soiled sheets and that he let himself end up in this position in the first place. What was he thinking letting Jensen... no, not now, thoughts for another time.

"What do you want?" he bites, fighting not to shift as Morgan leisurely paces the floor, all but circling him.

"To do us all a favor," the older man replies, but there's no ease in the words. "You aren't going to turn. You know it, I know it. Hells, the boy knows it even if he refuses to believe it."

Jared opens his mouth to retort, but the words don't quite come and all that's left hanging on the air between them is a choked little sound clipped out from his throat. Morgan's mouth twitches on a mirthless smile.

"You don't belong here, human; never will. So quit dragging it out for everyone and make the break clean," He fixes Jared with eyes like liquid pools of onyx. "Run."

"What?"

"Tonight," Morgan carries on, a slight fever behind the words as they spill forth, "when they go to sleep, run - as far and as fast as you can. And don't ever come back."

"But Jensen-"

"Will recover just fine once he's got your scent cleaned out of his head," For a moment the man's look softens, something almost familiarly paternal crossing his face, "He'll be a great leader one day, human; all you could ever do is hold him back. You're both better off my way."

His way. With a flare of sympathetic indignation Jared remembers what Morgan's way was; forcing Jensen to keep his secret even when it made him miserable, holding him back, fighting him to keep things the way Morgan thought they should be. All of those scratches and bite marks Jensen had walked away with when he’d finally won out as alpha.

"No. I won't-,” he shakes his head, “I won't just leave him."

There's the low reverb of a suppressed growl that Jared feels more than hears. "What about your family, human?" Morgan scowls, lips peeled back to expose his teeth. "You just going to leave _them_? That pretty little sister of yours? Or your brother? What about your parents, hmm? Huddled on the edge of the forest, searching for you in the night. Dangerous thing, that - anything could happen to them; you never know what kind of wild things might be laying in wait in the dark."

For the first time in his life, Jared wishes desperately that he could growl. "If you think for one minute that you can threaten my fami-"

"Not _think_ , human, _know_ ," Morgan barks, face suddenly close enough to Jared's that they're both breathing the same air; still stained with the metallic tang of stale blood, "I could do anything I wanted to them and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do to stop me. You’re playing a very different game out here, down-breed, and you don't have the fangs for it. So tonight, you're going to go up to dinner and act as nice and normal as your kind can manage, and then, when everyone's snug in their beds, you’re going to go far, far away - take your little family with you and run like there's a demon on your heels, because if I ever scent you again, there will be." His fingers clench on Jared's jaw, too tight for him to shake off without breaking the obstinate staring match they've set. "The boy will be better off without you."

"His name is Jensen," Jared spits like a curse, body tense and ready for a fight he doesn't stand a chance of winning. Maybe another time he’d wonder why he feels the need to defend Jensen's autonomy but now all he can consider is absolute loathing for the creature in front of him.

Morgan smiles, a hard turn of lips the shows slightly pointed canine teeth. "So it is."

***

Dinner is awkward, tension hanging in the air all over again and Jared can't help but remember the difference between this and last night, wonder if Morgan effects everyone this way or just his own mind perceiving something that isn’t there.

Oddly, he misses those moments back in his room when the anger was still so fresh and focused, like the pain of new wound instead of the muted throb of fear-laced impotence that spurs him like the cut on his leg. He's shocked he's able to hide it at all, but no one seems to pay it untoward attention besides Jensen, and from the way his freckled cheeks darken every time he meets Jared's eyes, he suspects that the other man believes his discomfort has to do with what went on between them earlier.

It's strange to think that only an hour ago, the problem of deciding whether to become a werewolf seemed so insurmountable, and now, it's hardly a whisper of worry at the back of his mind.

Jared sits at Jensen's side with Christian beside him, his blue gaze fixed firmly on some spot on the table in front of him. Misha's taken up Jared's spot from breakfast by Steve, but otherwise, things are identical to the earlier meal. Well, except for Morgan of course. Morgan sits at the far end of the table, directly facing Jensen as if in silent battle for the table top. Jensen doesn't seem to notice the phantom assault.

His leg brushes Jensen's under the table and he somehow finds he's got the other man's bare foot hooked firmly around his own without knowing which one of them did it.

"Are you feeling alright?" Jensen asks, his fingers sliding from the table to slip underneath and rub little circles over Jared’s knee. His own fingers find Jensen's with no command from him, tangling them together so that he can feel the tiny thrum of the other man’s heartbeat underneath the skin.

"I'm fine," he says tightly, giving Jensen's hand a small squeeze. He can physically feel Morgan's eyes on him. "It's just..." he could tell Jensen everything, right here and now and Morgan wouldn't have a chance to stop him. Jensen has already proven that he'll side with Jared and it seems like most of the wolves would too. Jensen could order Morgan to leave his family alone - he'd said the alpha's word is law - and everything would be right as rain all over again.

Except that Morgan would still despise him and spend every waking moment trying to find a way to retaliate, probably with Christian's help. And if there was any way to worm around Jensen's decree, Morgan would find it and go after Jared's family. All of which was leaving aside the bigger issue of Jared staying or leaving; _'all you could ever do is hold him back'_ rings in his mind deafeningly and he can't even find and argument against it.

"It's just been a lot to take in, is all," he finishes. Knowing its true doesn't make it feel any less like he's lying right to worried green eyes.

Jensen nods understandingly, his hair catching the firelight behind him like an auburn-gold halo - like the pictures of angels in the holy books. An ache flares in Jared's stomach, and it's better, he decides, not to consider what that means.

"You could," Jensen stumbles, eyeing around the table before leaning in to say softly, "You could stay in my room tonight. Not- I mean, we don't have to- Just, like we used to, you know?" The look on his face is painfully hopeful and Jared thinks back to the hundreds of nights he's fallen asleep under that stars with soft fur and warm breath against his neck and how much better those nights have always been than the ones back in the place he's called home for so long.

There's a table between them and inches of empty air and worn clothing and it's all entirely too much for a moment when all Jared really wants to do is find out what it would be like to replace those stars with a warm bed and that soft fur with smooth, hot skin against his own. He curves a hand around the back of Jensen's neck and the man goes with it, leans in when Jared pulls until their cheeks are pressed together and the fine silkiness of his hair is prickling Jared's nose. It's still miles away from close enough, but it's enough to remind him.

 _'All you could ever do is hold him back'_.

He kisses gently over the shell of Jensen's ear, hears the man's breath go ragged, feels the weight of dark eyes boring into him from the other end of the table.

"Not tonight," he whispers, fingers playing absently in the dip at the base of Jensen's skull. He catches himself praying that this won’t be the last time they ever touch.

Jensen makes a pitiful sound when they break apart that Jared feels all the way down to his bones. Maybe deeper. "I'm going to go try and rest," Jared says, ignoring the fact that he's already slept most of the afternoon - in Jensen's arms - and the iron weight in his gut that tells him he'd never be able to lie still anyway.

Jensen's eyes flit around his face, concern and want warring just beneath the surface. Jared can only hope he'll attribute all the anxiety in Jared's own expression to his injury. Finally he nods, thumb smoothing into the hollow behind Jared’s jaw. The scar tingles like a response.

For a reason Jared is very resolutely not thinking about, he can't resist leaning in one last time and laying a tender, chaste kiss against Jensen's lips. While the man still looks dazed, Jared escapes down the hall, the weight of inky, hate-filled eyes following him long after he's out of sight.

***

The air is freezing in his lungs, aching with every reluctant breath and Jared doesn't have it in him now to pretend that the pain's all because of the cold. It feels like there's some important part of him lying back on the bed in the wolves den and he's slowly bleeding out without it.

Jared pushes on. Damn Jensen for taking his cloak.

For a minute, he'd have sworn he was caught - Christian sitting silent as a shadow by the fire as Jared had crept through the main room toward the door. He didn't say anything, barely looked up; probably checking to see if Jared followed Morgan's orders. Jared finds a deep, throaty noise building in him, as close to a growl as he can manage - it's surprisingly cathartic.

Jared wraps his arms tighter around himself, trying to focus his energy on each forward step, each aching breath, each distant sound. The wind whips around him tauntingly, biting at every exposed inch of cold-pink skin and seeping through his clothes and the bandage on his leg until there's no part of him that isn't painfully chilled.

He trembles down this path for the second time in as many days, only this time he's alone; nothing but the sound of his boots in the snow and the body-warm hilt of his knife for company. His family's probably sitting around a fire now, oblivious to the hundred stunning revelations Jared's lived through in the course of this single day, unaware of the danger that could creep up on them at any moment if Jared doesn't do as he's set out to. And then he thinks of Jensen, probably asleep now on his wide, warm bed, both of Jared's cloaks nestled underneath him. He probably looks young when he sleeps, innocent. Jared wishes very much that he could see that.

It's an effort not to think about tomorrow or the day after or the years beyond that; whether Jensen will hate him or pine for him or curse him with every breath. Whether Jensen will chase after him or leave him be; become the leader his father believes he can be, the one Jared can see inside of him already. Whether the pack will be alright, will thrive and flourish or fall if Jensen does; if someone else will become alpha if Jensen can't handle what is bound to happen this night. Whether Jensen will realize as time goes on that he's not the only one who will always be alone without the other.

Tears well hot and stinging in Jared's eyes and he refuses to release them - he doesn't need any more distractions now, not if this goes the way he knows it must.

There's a sound, a small one, maybe some night creature foraging for food or a bird Jared's scared out of its resting place. His whole body tightens; it takes every ounce of will he has to keep his steps steady.

His grip around the knife if the only thing keeping his fingertips from falling into a frozen stupor and he tightens his hold until they ache, just to make sure.

Every breath, every wild pulse of his heart against his ribs is too loud, deafening. Don't run, can't run, ' _don't ever, ever run from a wolf'_.

A twig snaps - there! - off to the left, thirty paces back, twenty-five, twenty. Jared takes one more steady step, glances in front of him to get his bearings - an oak, to the left, three paces, another twelve paces to the right, a rock face just beyond - and shuts his eyes on the blue-dark night, they’re nothing but a hindrance now, stealing energy from his other senses.

Hunter's instincts and years of experience all come down to this; home in on the sound, deep breath, one more step, don't let him know, don't give yourself away. Ten paces, seven, five.

Now.

Jared turns on his heel, compensating with his weight and ignoring the surge of pain in his thigh, eyes snapping open at the last possible moment to make the most of his night vision and see the blade slice through the air to meet the black swath of midnight hurtling at him.

Contact reverberates up his arm, heavy and thick - a bone deep hit. A pained cry tears through the silence, blood steaming as it paints the snow dark. Morgan rolls to his feet, stumbling slightly as his front right paw hits the ground. Hamstringed; not enough to warn him off, but at least they're on even footing now.

Morgan had to come after him, had to get him out of the way for good to make sure Jensen didn't try to come after him - or, gods forbid, join him living among the humans - and the man would risk Jensen's hatred to do what he believed was right for the pack. Jared could sympathize there - after all, he was risking the same thing to protect his family.

White teeth flash against the dark of the wolf's body, a snarl that would make a lesser predator run for its life, but Jared's not lesser and there's more to this fight than fangs.

His knife catches in the moonlight, a feint that Morgan struggles to escape. The wolf balances the loss of maneuverability by backing up on his hind legs, making Jared move further away from the shelter of the trees to fight him. If Morgan's brought reinforcements, it will be a problem.

Jared leans on his good side, long arms striking out and missing again with the blade, dodging out of the way just in time as Morgan springs at his throat. The snow is cold, slides up under his thin shirt and scrapes at sensitive skin but Jared barely feels it, his thought process narrowed down to the creature rounding on him again. He fumbles, nearly falls again trying to get his feet under him, hot blood from the reopened wound running sluggishly down his thigh.

Morgan lunges, front paw finding purchase against Jared's middle, teeth barely catching on the meat of his shoulder. His grip on the blade clenches automatically as he forces himself to ignore the molten swell of pain because now he's down and he can’t afford anything but single-minded focus. Jared tumbles, scrabbles blindly with his free hand in the snow and manages to get free before Morgan can get a better hold with his teeth.

 _Pop-pop_ limbs break and then snow is flying in the distance and a dark, low body is hurting through the night at full tilt in their direction. Christian.

The recognition hits Jared's stomach like cold stone. This is it. Two, not one and he's already gotten tagged. This is how it ends. He wonders if Jensen will forgive them.

Morgan hardly spares a glance for Christian’s arrival, back legs curled to spring once more and perversely, Jared adjusts his grip on the knife again. He won't go down without a fight.

Blackness launches toward him over night-blue snow, Jared lifts the blade, steels himself, his eyes blinking shut.

And nothing. No contact, no heavy weight carrying him to the ground or muggy, triumphant pants of breath on his face. Nothing.

Snow rasps a pace away as though hit with a sudden weight, then a high pitched whine overlaid with a snarl and Jared's eyes fly open of their own accord.

Christian dances back out of Morgan's reach as the larger wolf jerks back to his feet, teeth bared at his son. The younger wolf circles back to stand in front of Jared, shoulders lowered slightly in a fighter's stance. He growls a warning and Morgan paces, just out of range, looking for an opening. Jared's too stunned to do anything but react on intuition, knife held at the ready with no input from his brain at all.

Behind him, there's more crackling as dry limbs give way and a chest wracking howl that seems to hang in the air of its own volition. Snow flies as Jared turns instinctually to face danger and sees Jensen burst through the trees, Misha and Tom hot on his tail. There are more flurries behind them, the rest of the pack, all of them skidding into the fray, sending waves of frozen powder flying everywhere.

Morgan tenses for the hit, tries to scramble out of the way, but Jensen hits him full force, both of them tumbling in a flurry of snapping jaws and gnashing teeth.

Misha brushes against Jared's leg, hunkered down and ready to leap into the action at the first sign of Jensen's need. Danneel comes upon the other side, eyes lingering momentarily on the blood soaking through his breeches and shirt before she seems to pronounce him fit enough to survive and turns her eyes on the fighting pair. Mike, Tom and Steve all join the ranks, flanking Jared but he's only dimly aware of any of it because Morgan may be injured but he's not out yet. All that matters is Jensen.

The tawny wolf jumps back from what would have be vicious bite to his flank and pulls himself up to his full height, hackles high and fur puffed out until he looks twice his normal size. Morgan snarls, eyes fixed on Jared, head tossing at some imaginary prey caught between his teeth. Jensen bites out a harsh sound and Jared, against every reasonably ounce of his judgment, steps forward around Christian, blade at the ready, as though he's in any position to protect his wolf.

The others follow, forming a huddled wall, the air around them trembling with the mingled vibration of their low growls.

Morgan's muzzle wrinkles, a look like disgust on his lupine face, but his muscles loosen, no longer prepared to attack. Jared does not to allow his own body the same privilege.

It's hard to tell how the wolves communicate - he supposes it's the sort of thing he should have asked, but it's never seemed pertinent until just now. It's obvious though, that they are communicating something, ears and tails and faces twitching in greater speed and complexity that Jared can hope to understand.

Morgan lets out a yelp like he's been scalded, ears going flat. For the first time that Jared's seen, he doesn't look like an alpha.

Jensen turns his back on his father, eyes settling firmly on Jared instead as though the black wolf no longer exists. Without a second thought, he opens his mouth to try to explain, only to find he doesn't know where to begin. All he ends up coming out with is a helpless "I..."

Jensen snorts and Jared would swear he rolls his eyes. Then he's walking toward Jared, the other wolves making way for him and Jared feels just like he did that first day they met, only this time Jensen's playing the mother to Jared's scolded child. He finds himself reflexively ducking his head.

Jensen's elegant head hits his unmarred thigh with enough force to make him stumble then catches up and does it again until Jared finally gets the idea and starts walking. The pack melts around them like a single protective entity - all except for Morgan, who remains sitting in the dark, watching them go with wide, disbelieving eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Jensen shifts the moment they hit the door, and for all that Jared's been curious this entire time about seeing it, now that it's happened right in front of his eyes, he's still not sure what to think. It's fast; so fast his eyes hardly have a chance to process it. One moment Jensen's trotting along in front of him on all fours, the next Jensen - human Jensen - is suddenly in front of him and Jared's has to actively force his eyes upward from the other man's shapely backside.

The rest of the pack has remained in wolf form all the way back to the den, but they shift as one on the way through the door and the only safe place left for Jared to look is the ceiling. A fact which, of course, leaves him gasping around white-hot pain when Jensen's hand unexpectedly clamps a cloth around his injured shoulder, simultaneously using it to force him to a seat. There's nothing for Jared to do but willingly collapse.

"My family," Jared blurts at the same moment Jensen growls, "What in the burning hells were you thinking?" voice pitched too low for any normal human range.

Misha interjects, "Your family is under our protection, Jared. They always have been." He lays a hand on Jared's uninjured shoulder and nods reassuringly before he follows Tom and Mike - all of them shifting mid-step - back out into the night, taking off in the direction of the village. The tension in Jared's muscles eases with the inherent understanding that the three of them will be keeping watch over his family. For him.

Jensen kneels and his strong hands catch at the torn collar of Jared's shirt to yank, the fabric giving way under the pressure and separating down the middle to bare his belly in one long, wind-chilled line. It stings harshly when the cloth pulls away from the half-clotted mess of blood at his shoulder and he hisses even though it doesn’t seem to make Jensen stop. Still, there's a tiny flinch around his eyes every time Jared loses a sound around the clench of his teeth, so maybe he's not irreparably furious.

"I'm not a child," Jared grinds out when he can find the breath. Jensen surveys the bared expanse of his shoulder, then slides his gaze down to the reopened wound along his thigh, giving the sturdy pants the same rough treatment until Jared's bare from hip to knee. Jared groans, as much for the loss of his only clean set of clothes as for the pain splintering along his nerves.

Jensen grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "Could have fooled me," and Jared's arm protests severely when he shoves the other man away, pride outweighing the pain.

"I've taken care of myself just fine up until now, even without you at my back. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. I'm not some _bitch_ you need to swoop in and save!"

Danneel growls her insult and Jared makes the mistake of glancing over at her before Steve manages to wrap her bare body in his arms and half-drag her down one of the hallways. He flushes hot, both in embarrassment and at the sight - he doubts he'll ever get used to seeing people standing around so... naked.

"Are you out of your mind!" Jensen rages, drawing up to his feet, which leaves Jared's eyes lingering for an uncomfortable moment on the soft hang of his cock between strong thighs before he reminds himself to look up. "You are in no way prepared for what Morgan is capable of. He could have taken you apart piece by piece!"

"I wasn't the only one bleeding back there!" Jared snaps back, getting halfway to standing before his body refuses to push any farther and leaves him swaying heavily into his seat again.

"And if Christian hadn't seen you leave? Anything could have happened! You could be dead right now, Jared!" Broad hands find Jared's cheeks force him to meet Jensen's gaze against his will, but it's not wrathful or stony like he'd anticipated; it's brimming with emotion, so close to breaking that it physically hurts Jared to see and know he's the cause of it.

The moment shatters as Christian's hands settle on Jensen's wrists - the man is blessedly clothed, though Jared's not sure when he managed that feat - and gently tugs his brother's grip free.

"Go get dressed, get a handle on yourself," Christian says, eyes steady on Jensen's. "I'll take care of the hu- of Jared."

For a long moment Jensen lingers, his look suspicious, but Christian's face forms into a rictus of shame and determination and incredulity, all of them flickering through so rapidly that Jared doesn't so much see them as perceives them. Apparently, it's enough to convince the green-eyed man, and after a long searching look at Jared he disappears down the hallway toward his room.

Christian sighs after him and reluctantly turns toward Jared, eyes downcast. It's not until then that Jared notices they're alone in the room.

The smaller man busies himself gathering things from cabinets and counters and cases until he's got a tidy armful of medical supplies assembled and finally settles on his knees in front of Jared and sets to work.

"What happened back there?" Jared questions. This is hardly the man he wants to ask considering the obvious distaste that’s been flung his way, but still, Jared can't stand not knowing what's going on and if there's anyone who won't hold back to spare his feelings, it's Christian.

The man doesn't look up from where he's daubing away blood from Jared's leg, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Morgan's been repudiated," Christian says dully, eyes making it as far up as Jared's collar bone before skittering away again. "Out of the pack; no aid, no acknowledgement. He doesn't exist for us anymore."

"I'm sorry," Jared sympathizes without thinking. He's certainly not sorry the Morgan's gone - the man did intend to kill him - or that he’s out of Jensen's life, but Jared also understands that Morgan is Christian's father too, and for all his failings, that fact doesn't change.

Bemusement mixes with wry humor on Christian's face. "It's not your fault. He made his own choices," then, murmured so quietly it's hardly words, "We all do."

The poultice still stings going on, but once again the pain fades fast, a dull numbness under the tight cloth Christian wraps the muscle in. Methodically he dips the cleaning rag in the water again, wrings it out, gently presses it to the ragged teeth marks on Jared's shoulder.

"I've never spent much time around humans," he speaks to the marred flesh, voice carefully even, "I’m told I don't have the temperament for it. It's not an excuse, but it's the truth. I don't really know how to deal with humans - doesn't mean I share Morgan's views on them."

Jared grunts his assent, not sure what else to do with himself. Christian flicks an errant strand of hair out of his eyes, revealing the frustrated expression in them.

"I... Jensen... It wasn't a surprise that he became alpha. Not because he's so strong or anything like that - he is, but, that's not why. He's alpha because when he puts his mind to something, he's a force of nature, unstoppable. He doesn't roll over for anyone or anything. Except you. He waited years, fought and scrapped and nearly tore this pack apart to get the chance to be with you. But he'll stand right there and let you take him apart with a word and not even lift a finger to defend himself." Christian's hands are shaking as he rubs the poultice in sloppily, every action grating along Jared's pain-wracked nerves, "He could force you to turn, and once you were one of us, you'd feel the pull too. You'd never regret what he did once you felt it, but he still won't do it. His gods-damned all or nothing bullshit." Finally, for the first time, Christian meets his eyes, unguarded, pleading. "You could destroy him completely. Never recover. And that scares the shit out of me, so I'm just... Please."

He doesn't know if it's 'please stay' or 'please turn' or 'please something else altogether' and he's not sure Christian knows either. There's a hot, hard knot floating inside of his chest that starts to bloom out, making his ribs feel too small and frail to contain it.

His mouth opens around, "I need to talk to Jensen," before he realizes he's going to say it. The emotion behind Christian’s eyes is caught somewhere between hopeful and hopeless and ends up just looking wrecked. Still he nods and hands over the roll of bandage for Jared's shoulder, backing up to make room for him to stand. After that, there's not much of a choice in actually going through with it – especially when the alternative is to have a heart-to-heart with a man he’s still not entirely sure he doesn’t despise - so Jared clenches the soft roll of cloth in his fist and gets to his feet. The walk down the hall lasts forever, the feel of Christian's eyes on him the whole way.

Even Jensen's door seems to stare him down stonily, his soft knock muffled by the oppressive silence within. There's no answer and he waits a small eternity before finally surrendering and pushing the door open.

Jensen's still shirtless, and thin pants are barely clinging to his hips at he stares accusingly at the wall in front of him, his hands braced on either side of his body. His back is to Jared, but there's no way he doesn't know Jared's there. He still doesn’t move.

With a quick, uncomfortable glance backward, Jared closes the door behind him, leaning back against the solid wood. His shoulder twinges at the contact, reminding him pointedly of the shoddy job Christian did with the poultice and that he still needs to wrap it.

"Did you think I would force you to stay against your will?" is whispered to the wall, but it's deafening, damning, in the quiet.

"He threatened to harm my family," Jared says by way of explanation. It's a fair point.

"And you thought that I would let him!" Jensen snaps, wheeling on him, eyes shining bright with some emotion Jared can’t place. "I'm not stupid, Jared! The first thing I did when I became alpha was declare your family untouchable. I never thought he'd be fool enough to go after _you_. Should have known, should have made sure..." Jensen trails off, berating himself under his breath and Jared finds that he's taken a step forward to comfort the other man without intending to.

"Christian said that you- that Morgan was..." he fumbles for the term.

"Repudiated," Jensen supplies absently, nodding a confirmation. "He's still bound by pack law, though. He can't simply go after them now. The boys will stand watch over the village for tonight, just to make sure."

Jared nods his understanding for lack of anything more effectual to do. He feels suddenly adrift, mired in uncertainty without the driving force of indignation backing him.

Jensen's eyes suddenly find his shoulder with a disapproving grunt. "I suppose you couldn't be bothered to wait for Christian to finish." He doesn't wait for Jared to respond just tugs the bandage free from his wringing hand and none too gently nudges him toward the bed. Awkwardly, Jared takes a seat, submitting to Jensen's careful ministrations as he wraps the wound.

"You could have told me," Jensen says after a moment, voice low and sad. Jared doesn't have anything to say to that.

Powerful fingers tie off the bandage cautiously, mindful of the torn flesh beneath. For a moment Jensen's fingertips linger over the swath of cloth, almost reverent, and then he pulls away, back to Jared again as he paces aimlessly to the other side of the room.

"You've bitten me before," is what Jared finally manages to say, going on when Jensen turns to him in confusion, "I mean, the bite, it’s not- it won't..."

"Oh! No, not- it won't turn you. You'll be fine once it's healed."

"Oh." For a long minute it's silent again, both of them fidgeting uncomfortably. "How does it work then?"

Jensen sighs and leans back on the wall behind him as though it's the only thing keeping him standing. When he speaks, his eyes are fixed on a point just above Jared's head, tone deadened. "Biting is part of it, but there's more to it than that. There's blood... it- it's hard to explain."

Jared hears his throat click around a dry swallow. The sound seems to echo around them.

"I can't just forget what I am, Jensen. My family... I can't just never come back."

"I know," Jensen tells the assorted furs on the floor. His breathing is labored, every exhale causing his unlaced breeches slip lower on his hips. He's beautiful, desirable in a way Jared would have never imagined a man could be, but all Jared's need is focused on the longing to erase the pain etching that angelic face. It's like a physical thing tearing obstinately at his insides, watching Jensen hurt, and then he knows.

It should be stunning, a single, crystalline moment of clarity, but it isn't. It's like remembering something that's always been right at the back of his mind, nagging at him, and once he acknowledges it, it's so obvious he has to hold himself back from laughing. He was never really going to make any other choice.

"Do we need anything special, or can we do it now?"

Jensen's head snaps up so fast Jared's astounded he doesn't hear anything pop out of joint. His eyes are wide, intense; hope and mistrust battling for dominance with bewilderment waiting in the wings.

"What?" he breathes the question as if the moment will undo itself if he breaks it with speech.

"To turn me. Are there supplies or something we need to gather, or will this work," Jared lifts his hands slightly, indicating his place on Jensen's bed. Both of his cloaks are laid out across the mattress, crumpled like someone had been rolling around on them and it's no surprise to feel a smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in what seems like forever, this feels right.

Jensen's just standing dumbly, occasionally managing to splutter out an 'I' or a 'you' or a 'turn' without ever actually saying anything. Jared has to purse his lips to cover a grin but he has a feeling he's doing a rather bad job of it anyway. Jensen seems to have lost the capacity to be insulted at least.

"I'm going to need a little more instruction than that," Jared prompts at last, which makes Jensen shake his head and seem to come back to himself.

"Now! _Now_?" the man says indignantly, arms flailing ineffectually at his sides. "After- After all of this, _now_ you want to turn!?"

Jared gives him a curt nod by way of reply, though he can feel his face heating slightly under the scrutiny.

"Why!?" Jensen screeches, an octave high enough to make Jared's ears twinge. It's mildly adorable.

Jared searches helplessly for the words that will somehow make this makes sense, when admittedly, it makes very little even to him. "Because... because the first thing you did as an alpha was make sure my family was safe. Because you waited twelve years for me. Because you thought you could sit across my lap in the middle of the gods damned woods and tell me you're a werewolf and expect me to jump at the chance to be one too. Because you're you and I'm me and it just... is. I don't know, Jensen, maybe... whatever it is that tells you that we're supposed to be together - maybe I have it too and I just finally learned how to listen to it. I've run on instinct my whole life with you, why should this be any different?"

Jensen’s hand’s fly to his hair in exasperation, but he flops to a seat on the bed next to Jared, face cradles in his palms. "Jared, this isn't... you can't go into this on a whim. It's-"

"The rest of our lives,” he intones seriously, “I know. It scares me stupid… But it's still a thousand times better than it felt to try and walk away from here, knowing I might never see you again."

"Would help if you wore a cloak," Jensen mutters dejectedly, scuffing a bare toe at the floor.

"Won't need to once I have fur of my own," he smirks back and very tentatively Jensen meets his gaze out of the corner of his eye.

"You can't ever take this back, you know."

The sigh the bursts out of Jared then is half groan. "For two days you've done nothing but try to convince me to turn and now that I want to do it, you're try to talk me out of it. I'm beginning to think you're just being contrary." The words bite, but his smile when he says it runs all through the tone. There's a reluctant upward turn on Jensen's lips when he snorts in reply and bumps Jared's shoulder with his own.

He doesn't think about it before he does it - like he said, instinct - just leans in, slow and steady so Jensen has plenty of time to get away before Jared noses into the tender hollow behind the other man's ear and very gently nips at the flesh.

Jensen shivers hard enough that Jared feels it run through the mattress and then, as if some invisible barrier breaks, everything's in motion. His face is caught in Jensen's hands, lips bruised by the other man's mouth in a kiss that's as much teeth and tongue as anything. Jensen's body presses him into the bed, completely covered by lithe muscle and hot skin.

A growl tingles against his swollen lips as Jensen tears at the remaining clothing hanging onto Jared's body before shirt and pants hit the floor in a tattered heap. They were a lost cause anyway and the way his heartbeat spikes as Jensen dispenses with the fabric like so much gossamer would have been worth it even if they'd been his best set. His boots he manages to toe off himself after a struggle, during which Jensen sets to work sucking hard little bites along the length of Jared’s neck and shimmying out of his own loose pants.

Jared moans, "Oh, gods," the rest of it swallowed up by Jensen's seeking mouth. He gasps in a breath through his nose when Jensen slowly urges his arms upward, aggravating his injured shoulder but it's just numb enough to perform the motion and Jared lets himself be spread. Jensen rolls his hips down, the velvet-on-steel heat of their lengths rubbing together in almost agonizing pleasure.

"Trust me," he pants and Jared can't tell if it's a question or a command, but he gasps out an affirmative anyway - anything to keep this going.

There's only a split-second of recognition before it all happens; a barely there moment where Jared's eye lids flutter up as Jensen pulls his head away and he sees it. Jensen's not really turned, but he's not exactly in his human form either - his eyes are too keen and reflective, his ears slightly pointed, the tips of his sharp canine teeth showing from beneath his bruised lips as they open around the soft flesh inside of Jared's elbow.

The pain of the bite flares sharp down the limb and he innately tries to pull away, but Jensen doesn't give an inch - doesn't even seem to notice Jared's efforts as he suckles at the wound like a hungry infant. Those teeth sink into the meat of Jensen's own hand next, blood welling crimson into the palm as he cups it to the mark on Jared's arm. It's like hot iron nails being hammered into his veins as Jensen's blood mingles with his own and Jared knows he's writhing to get away at the same time he knows that he'd ask for it all over again if Jensen stopped now.

But Jensen doesn't stop; just carries on to the other arm, repeating the procedure as the heat slides up Jared's body from both sides, deliberately slinking its way into his chest. Next he skims down Jared's body pausing to nuzzle at the vulnerable flesh of his belly before slipping even lower. He presses gentle, wet kisses - wet with Jared's own blood, a thought that makes Jared clench at the sheets reflexively - along the undeterred hardness of his erection, the swell of his sac, before at last licking over the thin skin at the juncture of groin and thigh and sinking another bite. This too is echoed on the other side of his body, but Jared can barely notice around the swamp of fire clawing through him.

He can't do anything but tremble when Jensen's mouth latches briefly to the head of his cock - not biting this time, thank the heaves for small favors - the wet friction both exquisite and excruciating on skin that already feel stripped raw.

It's like he's sizzling from the inside out; as though his bones have been replaced with freshly-fired irons that are cooking him alive and won't let him die. It's too much and he wants to yell stop, scream it until his throat is bloody, and for all he knows he may be - hard to tell when the swell of his boiling pulse in his ears is drowning out every other noise.

He can't feel anything beyond the swelter in his body and flayed open sensation of his skin and the impossibly hotter tracks of tears rolling down his cheeks but he knows Jensen's still there - has to be, because now his mouth is being forced open and more of the blistering, salty-metallic fluid is coating his tongue. Jared tries to spit it out - he wants to stop, no more, nothing more, but Jensen's mouth is still sealed over his and then his nose is being held closed so he has to swallow or die of suffocation. Jensen can't do this to him, wouldn't hurt him, he knows this, but it hurts so much and it _is_ Jensen doing it to him, even if it is what he asked for.

The blood lights his throat aflame, every fiber of his body protesting as it slides down into his stomach - spreading impossibly fast from there all through his middle. Jensen says something, wet lips against his chin, but Jared can't hear it so he doesn't know what's happening until he feels those wicked teeth spread over the column of his tormented throat and there's only one moment left to panic and freeze up before they sink home and he's suffocating anyway.

Jared has to be glowing, he's so hot - has to be glowing as he lies here on Jensen's bed, dying in pain, not even able to draw air. Except he is drawing air, he can feel it sliding grudgingly in and out of his chest, the blaze ebbing fractionally with each inhale. Every last inch of him feels abused - freshly burned and tender like new skin.

He almost painfully aware of the rasp of stubble as Jensen's face touches his own, the satiny wet heat as the other man laps away the traces of blood Jared can smell all over his skin. Not just blood, he can smell sweat and tears and precome and some spicy, earthy scent that makes his mouth water obscenely. A deep part of his brain helpfully supplies the source - _Jensen_.

"Jensen."

His burgeoning nerve-endings seem to tune into the thought, seeking out every part of the man's body touching his own, his thundering heartbeat slowing to match the steady thud of Jensen's. Which he can hear. He can hear Jensen's heartbeat. For some reason that's the realization that makes Jared open his eyes.

Jensen's braced on his hands and knees, looking down at Jared worriedly. And he's... gods.

He's always been beautiful. Jared knows that, remembers thinking it, but he doesn't think he ever really understood the word until right this moment.

The room had been dim before, but now Jensen's face is in crystal-clear focus, every eyelash and tiny freckle so defined and individuated to Jared's eyes that he could count them. Maybe name them - they deserve names. He's staring. But really, wow.

Jensen's mouth - Jared's arousal twitches at the sight of those perfect lips - and chin are smeared red, but all it does is make him look fierce and powerful; something worth belonging to. His eyes are glistening behind long, amber lashes, darting over Jared's expression with concern. Jared can see the exact placement of every fleck of gold in those glassy jade depths, wants to never stop looking except that there's so much more of Jensen to see. Smooth skin - no longer fever hot under Jared's roaming hands; just the right temperature - and hard muscle, the sublime curve of his ass as he leans unconsciously into Jared's touch. Everything from the fine tips of his silky hair all the way down to the taper of his gorgeous feet - how can someone's feet be so pretty? - is ideal; everything Jared never knew he always wanted.

Jensen makes an unsteady sound - high and slightly panicked - and Jared's pulse skitters in response. He wants more of those noises, better noises; to suck down every perfect, pleasured sound he can drive out of Jensen's throat and he wants it this very second.

Jared lunges upward so hard the taste of blood bursts anew in his mouth as his lips meet Jensen's and he couldn't care less because the next thing he tastes is that man - his mate - and nothing else will ever be as good. Jensen's gasp of surprise melts into a moan and Jared drinks that down too, using the opportunity to work his tongue into the welcoming cavern of Jensen's mouth.

He can smell - actually, literally, _smell_ \- the excitement surge through his mate, lust hot on its heels and so thick Jared feels like he's swimming in it. One day, if he ever decides to stop kissing Jensen long enough to speak, he's going to praise the man's restraint for not pinning him to the bed and taking him forcibly before now, because Jared doesn't have anything approaching enough willpower to deny the heady smell/taste/feel of Jensen's wanting body.

Admittedly, he doesn't have a clue how this is done - he's heard whispered rumors of men coupling before, but nothing particularly informative about the mechanics - but he wants whatever he can have and will be more than happy to fumble his way through it as many times as they need to to get it right. And then a few more, just to be certain.

Jensen, however, seems to know exactly what he's doing. Maddeningly, he breaks away from Jared's mouth, just long enough to suck in one of his own fingers and wet it before his other hand tangles in Jared's hair, twisting until he jerks his head backward with a hiss, baring his neck.

"Mine," Jensen growls, eyes locked on Jared's at the same time his wet finger slips past his needy cock and lower, until it's pressed firmly against the hot, hidden flesh of his hole.

It should be disturbing at least to be touched like this, and frightening, not to mention no little bit emasculating, but instead, all Jared feels is -

"Yes, yours." His voice is like a hundred miles of rough road, and he's never meant any words so much in his life. The finger pressing into him steals his breath, but without thought or command, his body instantly submits; opening for his mate, his alpha.

Above him, Jensen groans and presses down onto him so that his face is buried against Jared's shoulder, teeth scraping harmlessly over - what he now realizes is - newly-healed flesh. In fact, all of the tingling spots where Jensen bit him only minutes ago feel whole and unmarred, though the wound on Jensen's hand is still sluggishly dripping blood. He uses it to slick the way to slide in another finger.

Jared writhes between the bed and Jensen's body, this time wholly overcome by shooting bliss as Jensen's fingers strike something inside of him that tries to steal his vision. The throaty chuckle Jensen lets out at Jared's whine seems to sink right into his skin, rocking him to the core. A third finger glides in with the first two, Jared's body accepting it like it belongs there and that's a line of thought he can't begin to argue with.

Jensen's breath ruffles his hair, heavy pants of it that Jared slowly realizes are mingling Jensen's scent with his own on his skin - marking him. The idea sends a shuddering ripple of want down his spine.

He whines, "Jensen," breathlessly and the other man relents, pulling his fingers free from Jared's body, leaving him feeling bereft for the moments it takes Jensen to settle between his legs and spit into his palm.

It doesn't take much to understand what's about to happen even with his rudimentary foreknowledge - Jared's going to be opened and filled and used; like the bitch he professed not an hour ago not to be. He can't fathom how he could have ever not wanted this - he needs Jensen inside him, claiming him, like he needs food and water and air and he could probably learn to live without those three if it meant he could have Jensen.

It burns when Jensen breaches him, but it's nothing at all to the fire he just survived so Jared pushes it aside, forces himself to open further. Jensen is unyielding, pushing in slow and steady until he's fully sheathed. There's a low sound rumbling in his chest the whole way in, so deep Jared doubts he could have heard it as a human. The turning was worth it just for that.

Slow, but in no way tentative, Jensen starts to move, rolling his hips most of the way out only to bury himself again deep each time. Jared's erection is trapped between them, constantly stimulated by the press of Jensen's body plastered against him and the slick of sweat and precome dripping from him.

The smell of sex is so thick in the air, there's no room left for anything else and Jared's left breathing down nothing but the mingled scent of their desire in desperate breaths - it's the only thing worth inhaling anyway.

Jensen's hands clasp around his shoulders, pulling him on to every increasingly rough thrust. Jared lifts his hips into every pull, trying to get more. Noises punch out of them both each time their bodies connect, the power and the friction too intense to stay silent. Jared's fairly certain he's mewling and doesn't even have enough wit left to be embarrassed about it around the blinding surge of pleasure as every stroke mercilessly slams that sweet place inside of him that seems to have Jensen's name carved on it.

The pressure buzzing at the base of his spine builds, draws tight until he's certain it can't grow anymore and then, miraculously, it does. He's whimpering unabashedly, pawing and clawing at Jensen's slippery back for some anchor, some way to hold on, but it's futile and all he can do is lay there and take every insurmountable swell of ecstacy Jensen packs into him. He's so close, and yet so far; too much and not enough somehow and he just can't... he just needs...

There's no point in questioning it, even if Jared had the mindpower for the job, so instead he just lets his head turn of its own volition, his body offering up what it instinctually knows it needs. Jensen's snarl gets all mixed up in a whimper of need and the next time he rams his hips forward with bruising intensity, he sets his teeth to the scar behind Jared's ear.

Jared's swallowed up by it, drowning in wave after wave of something so far beyond what he's known before as pleasure that he'd come up with a new title for it, if only he remembered how to form words. The world goes white, like snow falling over the landscape of his vision and he surrenders to helpless quivering under the stabilizing weight of Jensen’s body. Dimly, he's aware of the roar of satisfaction ripped from Jensen's lungs and the rhythmic throb of heat blooming low in his body.

Jensen's hips don't stop churning, even when Jared can feel the warm mess of release sliding down the cleft of his backside, mucking up the bed. With a moan of reluctance, his mate slows, the softness of his length sliding easily through the come wetting Jared’s opening and through a feat of remarkable coordination - considering - Jared hooks his legs around the backs of Jensen's thighs and pulls, willing him on.

"Don't stop," comes out a whisper, but Jensen's face his still pressed sweat-tacky against his own, so he knows the alpha will hear. "Don't stop."

Jensen whines, high and long and Jared can feel the flesh still holding him open swell fitfully. He murmurs, "Jared," the rock of his body steadily building as his length fills out inside of Jared all over again.

It's all Jared needs him to say.


	6. Chapter 6

Sticky fingers working slowly over Jared's belly rouse him out of the light doze he’s fallen into what seems like a hundred times now. Cool, tacky trails tingle in the wake of that touch as Jensen once again paints through the slick of come gathered on Jared's middle. He swipes a thumb across the twitching muscle of Jared's opening - enough to make an involuntary moan spill free - and rubs the release gathered there into Jared's already covered skin.

"I think I owe Tom and Mike an apology," Jared mumbles into the bed, body half-turning to give Jensen better access. Jared's impressed that Mike and Tom ever make it out of their room if this is what they feel like all the time. Jensen rumbles a laugh and kisses down the back of Jared's neck, biting lightly when Jared's body instinctually bows forward to bare his spine. The warmth that floods him at the reflexive submission is enough to cover any shame he might have at giving in so wantonly.

His limbs are actually trembling he's so exhausted. It's been hours and hours with little more than occasional half-sleep for either of them; one always waking up enough to start touching and the cycle begins all over again.

"Wanna go again?" Jensen mutters, lips and tongue catching on Jared's skin. The push of his half hard length against Jared's ass is a request, but there's a genuine question in the words. Jared's already distinctly sore but his own cock starts near-painfully filling out anyway. He's lost track of how many times it's been and still it's like he will never get enough.

He can't decide whether it is luck or not that at that exact moment, his stomach protests loudly. Jensen laughs freely, his arms tightening briefly around Jared in a hug.

"Hungry, dearest?"

Jared quirks an eyebrow sarcastically, twisting to look over his shoulder at a significantly mussed Jensen.

"Dearest?"

"Dearest," Jensen grins mischievously "Unless you'd prefer something else. Sweetheart? Beautiful? My love? Beta?"

Jared huffs, but he can feel himself smiling - hasn't managed to stop since the pain first faded.

"Come on," he says with a groan, body objecting to the movement as he forces himself to a sitting position and lets his feet hit the floor next to the bed. The bone-deep lassitude of being genuinely well taken leaves Jared feeling tingly, loose, and mildly phenomenal.

Jensen's strong arms wrap around him from behind, the mattress dipping as his mate kneels at his back, kissing along the curve of Jared's shoulder. Jared leans into it, eyes fluttering closed even as he asks "Don't you ever get tired?"

"Exhausted," Jensen replies, the playful nip he gives Jared's neck contradicting the statement, "But as long as I'm awake anyway, there's nothing I'd rather do."

Jensen's fingers walk teasingly down Jared's middle and across his hips to the semi-swell of his arousal. It surges under the attention, trying to harden again at Jensen's command. The groan that tingles against Jared's neck is equal parts wicked and frustrated.

"If you intend to eat, make your move now Jared. I can't guarantee my restraint for long."

Forlornly, Jared's eyes fall to the tattered remnants of his bloodstained clothing on the floor. "I don't have any clothes."

Jensen quirks an eyebrow at him, shrugging apathetically. There's something decidedly sinful in the tilt of his swollen lips.

"I am not going out there like this!" Jared says indignantly, looking down at his body in emphasis. The mottled imprints of Jensen's mouth on his skin look older than they are, the bruises already on their way to fading, but there's little mistaking where they came from. Especially with his hair sticking to his forehead in sweaty clumps, skin tacky with a mixture of release and the saliva from when Jensen decided to attentively lick every square inch of Jared's body. Not that he's complaining about any of that evidence or the ways he earned it, but it's not the sort of thing anyone they might run into in the main room needs to know about. Also, he may be a werewolf now, but the casual nudity is going to take a lot more getting used to.

Jensen smirks, "I like you like this." His voice dips down into a register that makes Jared have to twist up his hands in the sheets to keep from pawing at his mate again.

Jared has to clear his throat a couple of times before he can manage to make his voice work properly. "I still need clothes," he insists stubbornly.

Jensen puffs his lips out in an exaggerated pout which Jared ignores almost completely by virtue of biting his own lip nearly bloody instead. Still, the other man heaves himself off of the bed and retrieves a pile of clothes from the floor, flinging them at Jared's head. They're too short, and Jensen's scent is strong enough on them that they're obviously not clean, but then again, neither is Jared, so he hasn't got much ground for complaint. Also a very small, quickly stifled part of him finds a certain allure in walking around with Jensen's smell all over him. He thinks he's starting to understand Jensen's obsession with his cloaks.

Dressed and reasonably un-mauled looking after a quick foray with his hair in the mirror, Jared creeps out of the room with Jensen behind him, hand at the small of Jared's back.

The first thing Jared thinks walking into the main room is how desperately they need to put a window into Jensen's room. It's morning. Very early morning, the sun painting everything in watery yellows and blues, but still very much day time. No wonder he feels so worn out.

After that thought, it's a close contest between the hunger that only grows more pronounced now that he smell of pork fat frying has overwhelmed the scent of sex all over him and the embarrassment that he can feel coloring his face red. There had always been a chance they'd run into someone up here, but he hadn't expected the whole pack to be sitting around waiting on them like fussy parents.

A joking howl rends the air and Jensen glares at Mike before splitting into a grin. With the tension broken, Jared is swarmed; first Danneel rushes over to wrap her arms around his neck, catching Jared's face between her palms and giving him an affectionate nuzzle before he's finally released. Steve claps him on the back, shoulders nudging at which point Jared gets distracted by Misha and Mike - apparently having deemed the village safe - both practically tackling him to the ground in their exuberance. Tom waggles his eyebrows at Jared but lets it go at that; Christian gives him a single, curt nod, but there are thanks in his eyes. Jared smiles softly back, understanding the sentiment if not the method to the man's fraternal protectiveness.

Jared has a plate shoved into his hands as soon as he's released from the various embraces, Jensen subtly guiding him over to the table. He takes a seat - his seat - to Jensen's side, across from Danneel, next to Christian. And if his shoulder bumps with the smaller man’s as they eat, Jared's not one to complain.

It takes genuine physical effort not to touch his mate, but Jared settles for resting his bare foot over the top of Jensen's for exactly as long as it takes to fit every last bite of food on his plate into his mouth, then he slides his hand over onto Jensen's knee, feeling remarkably more grounded by the simple touch.

Everything is an extraordinary mix of wildly overwhelming and strangely comfortable. The smells are so much more intense, and likewise, the sounds all seem clearer and more immediate. In the light of day, his eyesight seems less exceptional; no worse than as a human, but not the sharp intensity he'd noticed last night. There's something else too that he can't quite seem to put his finger on, a thrum running through him as deep and innate as his own heartbeat, but also alien and external. It's not until he really looks around the room at the group gathered around him, easy and comfortable as if he'd spent every day of his life here with them that he understands. Pack. He's feeling the pack.

He can't think of any adequate reply when Jensen narrows his eyes questioningly at Jared's grin, so he just shakes his head. After a quick gaze around the room, he's fairly certain Jensen understands.

"Ahem," Misha clears his throat, making Jared suddenly aware of how close he's actually leaning toward Jensen - he's practically in his mate's lap.

"So are we going to do this or what?" Mike interjects with a wink at his coconspirator. Jared can't help but think how very lucky they are that Mike and Misha aren't mated - there'd be no end to the trouble.

"Do what?" Jared queries. Jensen looks just as stumped as Jared is, while Danneel and Christian both seem indulgently amused - the other men are all openly grinning.

Danneel sighs, "The boys have a bet going about what color your coat will be." She rolls her eyes at her mate but interlaces their fingers again.

"I think it will match your hair, as is traditional," Mike confirms as Tom nods his tacit agreement. Jared really hopes this mating thing doesn't mean he has to agree with Jensen all of the time now; he doubts he could manage it.

"While I," Misha says airily, "give you enough credit to know that you would never be so prosaic."

"Have you seen your fur?" Mike squawks at the tacit insult.

For a moment, as the men squabble back and forth, Jared completely fails to comprehend. They all look to him expectantly as if he's going to bring forth the answer to such an unfathomable question, and then finally it clicks into place.

His coat. His fur coat. As a wolf.

Up until now, Jared felt he'd been handling the entire turning situation rather deftly, taking all of the changes in stride. But then, up until now he'd been a little too busy exploring the capabilities of his new found stamina to spend much time thinking about the other side of being a werewolf. The wolf side.

Clearly Jensen senses the wave of panic flooding through Jared because he's swiftly cupping Jared's jaw and forcing him to look nowhere else but into calm green eyes. The tide of worry in Jared slowly recedes until his trepidation is minor enough to be matched by the hint of curiosity.

Jensen smiles reassuringly and Jared answers it with his own, kissing Jensen's palm once as it reluctantly moves away from his face. Slowly, Jared nods.

Mike and Misha are dragging him outside almost immediately with the help of Steve - he'd really expected better of Steve. The sun on the snow is blinding-bright by now and it's enough to distract Jared momentarily from the fact that he feels perfectly comfortable in the icy mess, even without shoes or a cloak. It's really remarkable.

Jensen's grinning at him boyishly as Jared does a fully body turn, looking around as if he expects there to be some trick to the warmth still humming naturally in his veins. It's only then that he realizes how well and truly different he's become from just yesterday. It seems like it should feel odder than it does.

"So, um, how do I..." he leads, scrubbing his hand through the sweat-salt dried into his hair. He wonders if he'll still be sticky as a wolf; the idea is no little bit unappealing.

The pack looks around at one another curiously, all of them appearing slightly out of sorts.

"I guess..." Danneel starts, trailing off into a ponderous expression.

"Well, you just," Mike picks up, "You sort of..."

Jensen bites his lip, eye focused on the snow as he cocks his head to the side, a sure sign he's thinking hard. Jared smiles a little just at the fact that he knows that.

"First, you should take off your clothes," his mate says authoritatively, crossing his arms in front of himself with a firm nod.

Jared hears himself grumble, "That's your solution to everything," at the same moment he thinks it, blushing at his own slip while the pack laughs, Misha ruffling Jensen's hair.

Jared hesitates in slipping out of his shirt. He would have preferred to at least have a quick wipe-down before he had to be naked in front of absolutely everybody; of course they all know what he and Jensen got up to last night but the specifics really aren't any of their business. Still, unless he plans on not doing any of those things with Jensen again - which, considering that he's barely restraining himself from rushing across the few feet separating them and flinging himself at the man, seems very unlikely - they're bound to see the marks sometime.

Jared very carefully does not look up to anyone's face as his clothes fall to the ground. Well, at least until he hears Danneel make an appreciative noise at which point his has to look up and scowl. It doesn't help that Danneel's clearly not the only one enjoying the view. Jensen just grins, his eyes dark and possessive. That look is certainly not making being naked in front of a crowd any more comfortable, though his twitching length doesn't seem to mind the audience.

Tom rescues him with, "Try and imagine yourself turning, becoming a wolf." That at least allows Jared to clamp his eyes shut, which helps immensely in the not dying of humiliation side of things.

He's standing here with his hands cupped over his groin and everyone watching him and if it weren't for the fact that he's naked in the snow and not feeling the pinch of winter at all, he'd swear this was all some cruel joke at his expense.

"Just," Christian's voice breaks through his thoughts, soft and hesitant, "want it, and then let yourself have it."

And Jared, well, he hasn't got a clue what happens actually. He wants it, envisions it, and then... his skin goes prickly all over, itching so furiously for an instant that if it hadn't ended just as quickly he'd have scratched off all of his skin just to sate the itch. But then it's gone under the rush of, not-quite pain, but not really anything he has a word for either - like his bones all spontaneously pop out of alignment and into a new one but without any of the ache he'd expect from a displaced joint. No, this is just... movement; razor-sharp and fast and over before he's really had a chance to figure out what he's feeling.

Jared opens his eyes to find himself several feet too short. He's looking up at Jensen - the packs all there, but he only has eyes for his mate; the sensation of connection he'd felt before magnified ten-fold by the shift.

The shift.

He's shifted. Oh sweet holy heavens, he's a wolf.

Jared hears the high whine that works its way out of his throat, automatically back-stepping several paces only to realize how truly bizarre it feels to walk on four legs. Now that he's aware of it, he can't seem to coordinate all of them, limbs getting all hitched up around one another and the strange, over-sensitized protrusion... his tail. He has a tail. All things considered, the safest course of action seems to be dropping to his belly on the spot and scrunching his eyes closed.

Steve was right, everything does feel off balance now and it's much too much, everything loud and tactile and scented. There's so much sensation, too much, and he's dimly aware of the noise he's making and the feel of his paws - paws! - covering his muzzle but he doesn't have the focus to be ashamed now. What if he can't get back? What if he's stuck like this until the end of his days? What if...

Jared jolts backward to his feet at the cool, moist contact against his nose. Gods, his nose has never been so sensitive before.

Jensen stares back at him; not the Jensen he was looking at a moment ago, wolf-Jensen - tawny fur and expressive green eyes that say everything's going to be alright as precisely as words ever could. There's something wrong in it that he can be so affected by Jensen; that just the wolf's presence, his steady gaze, calms Jared's nerves enough to slow his heart rate.

His mate takes a tentative step forward, another more sure when Jared doesn't step back - too afraid to move now that he's thinking about the fact that he has four legs - and at last rubs his head up underneath Jared's jaw, nuzzling at him reassuringly until Jared feels some of the tension melt out of him.

Jensen pulls back just enough to look in Jared's eyes, a whole slew of expressions working across his face that Jared doesn't quite catch, but somehow understands - _Are you alright?_

Jared thinks 'yes', feels his body move reflexively and Jensen brightens. Green-gold eyes trail slowly over Jared's body, then back up to his gaze, a light in them that's all approval. _You're beautiful_ , he understands without having to hear the words.

He can't blush, but his head dips without his intent behind it and knows instinctually that it's the same thing. Finally he bothers to look at himself, or as much of himself as he can manage to see - that was the whole point in the first place.

What do you know; Misha wins.

His fur looks nothing at all like his hair; it is salt and pepper speckled, grey and white, bleeding into black toward his spine, as far as he can tell. It's sort of pretty, in a purely aesthetic sense.

The thought must show on his face because Jensen's smiling at him. Or, well... yes, smiling. It's not a human smile, but it's a smile, broadening out into a panting grin as Jared returns the sentiment.

Jensen lets his front legs drop forward, his hind-quarters in the air, tail wagging. He yips and dances backward and Jared doesn't need whatever wolven translator he's been gifted with to know that move by heart - _Play with me_.

Jensen's still just an overgrown puppy. Jared suddenly knows he’s not any better himself.

The first few steps are stumbling, too much thought behind the mechanics of them, but then Jensen darts forward and nips at his ear, just enough pressure to catch and pull. Jared reacts without thought at that, chasing the other wolf a few steps before ducking out of the way of the idle lunge his mate aims at him.

By that time, he's bombarded from the side by a triumphant looking Misha, Mike hot on his heels with Tom in tow. All three of them are in the fur, letting out happy little sounds as they run off a short distance into the trees, then loop back over in over in an endless game of chase. Danneel is on him next, tumbling him to the side with her much smaller body. She and Jensen take turns goading him on with harmless nips along his neck and shoulders that keep him distracted enough with trying to retaliate not to bother over that fact that he's wearing a completely new body at the moment.

Misha slams into him - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send Jared's hind legs skimming in a semi-circle through the snow. Naturally he's followed by Mike and a more subdued Tom. Steve joins in then and, with trepidation, so does Christian, giving Jared just a little bit of berth but definitely participating in the play-fight they've somehow all engaged in.

Jared's still big as a wolf, ever so slightly bigger than the others and once he stops thinking about how to move, motion seems easy. He even manages to pin Tom, which didn't seem very likely at all considering the wolf’s obvious strength, but then Mike steps in to defend his mate and between the two of them Jared finds himself rolling in the snow. If he were human he'd be laughing, and as it is, he's not sure what exactly his body is doing to convey the feeling, but then recognizes it in the others; an almost manic playfulness, relief after what seemed like such a long period of tension.

Jensen, of course, is the best fighter among them; a quick dart to the right, feint to the left, and Jared's on his back, fluffy belly exposed before he knows what's hit him. Jensen grins down smugly from above and Jared doesn't have to see his tail wagging to know it is. His mate's tongue is warm on his muzzle, a lingering caress as he allows himself to be held down in the snow, Jensen's heat and weight and scent overwhelming everything else.

If he ever considered having regrets, they’re gone now.

***

The setting sun stains the snow orange and pink, brighter light filtering in from just ahead where the trees thin at the edge of the village. Jared's wearing his cloak because it would seem strange not to, but he doesn't really need it anymore. The blue one he lost so long ago is tied for effect around Jensen's shoulders.

They're hands are clasped together, soaking up as much contact as they can - his family is going to be confused enough without the two of them touching the entire time they're there. He'd told Jensen he could do this on his own - though he still hasn't thought of a way to explain that he's going to be living in the woods from now on without including anything about being a werewolf and the pack; he'll figure it out when the time comes - but his mate's with him anyway and Jared has to admit he's glad. Of course, he'll never be able to tell his family the truth about what he and Jensen are as well as what they are to one another, but it's nice to think that maybe Jensen will come with him sometimes when he goes to visit his kin; that his two families can merge in some small, unconscious way.

Jensen's face turns into the crook of Jared's neck, pressing a soft kiss there and breathing deep. Jared doesn't even have to look at him to know his mate is nervous; by virtue of how well he knows the man or some by-product of their mating, he doesn't know - he still hasn't learned all of the rules yet.

"We'll be as quick as we can," he promises, rubbing the pads of his fingers behind Jensen's ear in an almost-scratch.

"They're not going to like me," Jensen says gently, but Jared's hearing is more than up to the task of making out the sound now. He smiles and leans back so their eyes meet in the dwindling twilight with the flash of copper that marks their night vision - they'd better hurry; that glimmer would be very hard to explain to his parents.

"Impossible," Jared chides, "You're inherently likeable." He captures his mate's plush lips in a quick kiss, falling prey, as always, to the temptation of Jensen's touch and ends up swimming in the embrace for minutes longer than he intends to.

He pulls away but doesn't even make it a full step toward the village before Jensen's hand clasps tight around his wrist. The look on the other man's expressive face is fearful, almost hurt and something inside of Jared aches in echo. Instinctively he steps back into the circle of his mate's arms, trying to will away the concern.

Jensen ducks his head and Jared still can't see him make that motion without envisioning his perky lupine ears pressed flat to his skull. When his speaks, it's even quieter and Jared's keen ears have to strain for his deep voice.

"What if they want you to stay?"

Something warm and tender swells inside of Jared, all but overcoming him so that he has to wrap his arms tight around the smaller man's shoulders and cling to him as if he can squeeze the doubt out of his mate with nothing but the strength of his hold.

"They're my family," Jared whispers low, lips pressed tight to Jensen's ear," Of course they're going to want me to stay. But I'm not leaving you, Jensen; not now, not ever."

Jensen makes a sound that's tellingly close to a whimper and the fingers pressed at Jared's back tighten. Their lips find one another unerringly and this time Jared intentionally lets himself get swept away in it, letting every ounce of love and dedication he feels pour into it for the man who's become his life-blood.

No, he's never leaving.

When Jensen looks up at him again, eyes opening lazily, still glazed in contentment, there's something to his smile that makes Jared ask, "What?"

The smile deepens into a smirk and Jensen's fingers find their way up Jared's neck, toying with the ends of his hair. "The first time I kissed you we were here," is his reply, leaning up to nudge their noses together again.

Jared remembers that first day, standing here just beyond the tree line with a little wolf pup looking up at him longingly. He remembers the sting on the bite behind his ear - the only scar his body still bears - and the sudden, wet jolt of a broad tongue swiping across his lips. At the time he hadn't thought anything of it, nor of all the times after that, but then again, he hadn't known how far over the threshold of a normal life he'd stepped that day.

He wouldn't give it up for anything.

"Come on," he says, voice dipping into something smoky and dark. He can feel the hairs on Jensen's arms raise in response, the tiny tremor of lust his mate almost manages to conceal. "The faster this is over with, the faster we can go home."

Jensen smiles and mock-bows for him to lead the way, which Jared does with a roll of his eyes. They walk close, picking a path among the trees that lets them keep their arms pressed together in a warm line.

He doesn't need to say it, knows that Jensen's known all along even better than Jared has - this moment, with the man at his side; he's already home.


End file.
